Cobble stone streets
bobble headed taxistas,
sweat stained sheets
window open oblivious to the vista.
Dreams are born and die
many quick, unfulfilled.
Others success! Was it worth it? Sigh.
Good. Bad. The framework was built.
Hot beaches, tacos and American girls.
Culture more profound than sunscreen and spring break.
Cold cerveza, A/C rooms and brown skinned whores.
The children of the 5th Sun, stomachs growling, lay awake.
Where the jungle meets the ocean,
to some, paradise in the midst of a hell.
To many, el paraiso lost. Home, I mean,
humble pleasures, simple life, turned prostitute at the tinkle of a bell.