The sun beats me down
in la punta today
waking up, trying to leave the gravity of my hotel king,
and failing, back down
once i get out to get some cash,
i feel the weight of the immoral orgasms that kept me horizontal
heavy sun Sunday
and I can’t make my mind up...
where to eat, who to eat with, who to eat out
the questions of daily life in paradise...
as heavy as a murder on the main street
do i even need to worry about survival in this wonderland?
maybe I’ll be just fine...
i think the nourishment of love will eventually satisfy my bodily hunger
a paleta (popsicle) cools the tongue of a dragon
in these parts old men are like the lost mythological creatures
Morality evade them too