Island people will shovel you into shame.
Only your bones will stay upright,
The rest of you will melt and wash
down the gutters.
Even the dogs will eat whats left.
My chest heaves cold things
even in the hot sun at 2pm.
The sea grape leaves will take into consideration
each passing day and burn themselves
through the salt spray of each broken wave.
I am the unexpected guest that tumbles up along the coast.
There I haul myself out each day,
To throw myself into the wind.
To walk on the cusp of another man's boundary line.
I figured out how to climb on top of limbs
of the legacy of old men in grey pants.
But the drive there is quicker.
I peered over the wall,
A tropical garden manicured with
Bad attitudes and contempt.
I thought we were neck and neck
But I retracted as the tortoise walked away.
Still a stranger,
But only the invisible remain.
