I am thinking vaction. I'm retired, so I don't get the same intense urge I used to when the thought comes to mind, but I still like to get away and really kick back. I recall one vacation in particular, back when I was working, I booked passage to a tropical paradise, (according to the travel brochures). I just never counted on the changes wrought by the increased pressures on these places by cruise ships. Our accomodations turned out to be at the top of a mini-mountain with steep winding steps and no bellmen. Our rooms were small and cooled by a 110 volt window unit. The cool air could be felt if you stood no further than two feet from the front vent. It was summer in the tropics. The small town was crowded with thousands of people from the daily cruise ships, and as a result the locals were surly. I spent a lot of time in the small swimming pool until the sun set, after which we ventured out for the evening meal. The trip did not meet my expectations, and I penned this poem to recount the memory. Try to imagine a band, using steel drums, playing in the background as you read the poem aloud.
Tropical Depression
Humid heat
no retreat
cranking down to
tropic beat.
Not to worry
we don’t hurry.
Sweat in eyes now
vision blurry.
Must find shelter
from this swelter.
Stuck in traffic,
Helter Skelter.
Where’s the hotel
in this black hell?
A.C. won’t work?
Oh! You don’t tell.
Spent my money,
wanted sunny.
Now I’m naked,
feel all runny.
Too late rain.
I’m insane.
Counting days till
outbound plane.
Tropical Depression
Humid heat
no retreat
cranking down to
tropic beat.
Not to worry
we don’t hurry.
Sweat in eyes now
vision blurry.
Must find shelter
from this swelter.
Stuck in traffic,
Helter Skelter.
Where’s the hotel
in this black hell?
A.C. won’t work?
Oh! You don’t tell.
Spent my money,
wanted sunny.
Now I’m naked,
feel all runny.
Too late rain.
I’m insane.
Counting days till
outbound plane.
I know a lot about cars. I can look at a car's headlights and tell you exactly which way it's coming. - Mitch Hedberg
