Naples ’98

Naples’98

Enough walking has been done, enough low-flying
Birds, enough sunny hours pass to qualify this as a vacation.
When existence is your job, how do you take a vacation?
It’s bright, and you’ve forgotten your shades.
You can barely open your eyes to spot the beauties
Bending to pick shells, small shells, off pure white sand.

Young pelicans skim over innocent fish while modest
Teens, with towels around bikini bottoms pick routes
That allow six-inch waves to lap against their feet. The
Gulf of Mexico is a sheet of glass, darker as it melts
Into the horizon: Yucatan is a long swim away.
Without glasses, perspective is ruined. Hard to distinguish

Waving dead grass from distant clouds. To your
Left a sparkle of sun bounces, and a pontoon boat
Motors passed. High-pitched outboard harkens a memory
Of fresh water, early-morning fishermen and Rainbow
Trout, not toxic then, frying over a camp fire. Now a
Brown butterfly comes to interrupt self-imposed blindness.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1999. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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