Sketch January Belize
Main street one street front street Fido’s with palm trees sky behind color wheel breeze Women the greatest smiles the Look, twice, thrice, and smile...one two three young mid old women the kindest smiles you ever saw Sand paved one-way tight three quarter leg pants No hesitation Sun or Breeze of Grey cloud...Oh bring me back to the tight ear line Belizian Sirens! Town square, white catholic church always out of place brick courtyard on corner phone booth till late lone girls calling out their boys and then the row of vendors selling everything from jewels to oranges to hot dogs...family affairs, stray dogs circling, golf carts, a truck, a bigger truck, screams and runnings of kiddies, five bikini girl touristas, like atoms colliding from all directions and I walking through it unnoticed and scarce...
This was how I occupied my days, those when I wasn’t out on the Godly sea doing Scuba with my mother and the guys, I spent laconic afternoons on the beach street recording my thoughts and pithy observations while sipping a Coca-Cola or sometimes a Belikan depending on how the sun was hitting...there just wasn’t a whole lot to occupy one’s time on the tropic isle, no movie theater, no mountains to climb, gone were my allies, my ancestral mountains which could ease the mind and prevent boredom by their rock-edge and snow green opulence, no pinion pines, mesquite, alligator juniper, cat-claw mimosa, lechuga or mountain and banana yucca...just sand lonely streets, stray mutts, copious sun yellow pure and bald blue rooftop...such nakedness at times felt more terrifying than the furious business of the cities like gay San Francisco where I was allegedly killed on a dozen occasions...and my only pals were drinking pals Hamid and Jesus who I only saw at night and usually while drinking...and despite the occasional bike ride or walk with my mother, I was on my own in clean edge imagination and all I could think about was Ramona...
This was proving me an unreliable, even a nervous and slipshod interpreter of the strophs and antistrophes of vacation observation...I could think only of random field screws, boat-travel Odyssean love, cabin or bungalow life...and Ramona’s blythe form haunting it all... Oh but my whinings in the meditation journal...my tears in lotus, my mute dark sometimes zombic walkarounds...and all of this while I was supposedly happy and wonderfully in love: “The clarity and beauty is immense right now 9:07 am Tears Libre...”—Christmas eve...I had an erection in the middle of the night and felt relieved...yesterday was full of great moments full of clarity and love for Ramona...remembered halfway thru her words “don’t forget that I love you” and I realized in a samadhic moment that it was the Sage, My Guru, the Universe that loved me and tears filled my eyes like joy pools...
