My first shot

Well I met a bitter old man that saw it coming. His name was Jaak. Jaak spent his time growing tomatoes and Poblano peppers while blasting old-time rock n roll.

It's a sad day my return to Canada A country of empty hope... Promises that come with hidden costs... How many have been mislead? Multicultural bleach Impersonal politeness Cordial disgust Spineless bodies propped up on a skeleton of idealism They want to tell me who I am? Interpret my experiences

so peaceful, the waves crash, the wind blows locals speak indistinctly in the lighted part of the palapa bar in a language I don't fully understand I'm waiting for something magical to happen, a transformation to a life more magnificent then I've imagined so far There seems to always be