The Divers, the Drowned, the Delivered

We landed on the beach in Bahia Kino
with our best memories and war stories,
monitoring time by watching shadows.

Simplicity is complex nowdays, so many gadgets.

There was a fire ring for instance,
and burning lanterns but no candles.
And diving birds, there were three kinds and their bones.

An old friend caught trigger and hoped for flounder.

After he had too much to drink
he resembled a demon but his hands trembled.
Near the fire at night his eyes glistened.

Don's wife likes Miami, she drinks there.

In the morning there was contrition
and there were flies to spread contagion
by thieving sugar and contempt, a diligent crew.

How many times have I seen this before?

Insects and yeasts take people apart
one piece at a time. We collect wood
to burn, it holds us together as it consumes.

Tayammum, sand ablutions are called Tayammum.

At dawn the sea leaves her glass behind,
ceramic prisons free for the taking.
I couldn't get enough, the sea is so generous.

I was questioned thoroughly, my fingerprints in sand are still there.

Don left so early Sunday, he left cans
and rope, he left precious amounts
of bile in shade trees, he left our rake unattended.

We come from a family of campers, we are honor bound.

Ours tell quiet stories of blindness all the time,
we frequent several places, the animals know
when we are there. Lizards aren't so cautious.

Aztec traders brought handmade trinkets on the last day.

Grandfather, father and two boys. Bedou salesmen
from the pagan interior. His son told me this, he knew why I asked.
He had assimilated over time using a small TV. His eyes said so.

There are rituals and there are habits. These are facts.

Yes I said, yes, there is only one.
He nodded when I spoke of the Arabs.
Vaya con dios I said. He liked that. He smiled.