vacation

torches line up the shore.
flags, colored.
bikini-clad women, naked men embracing them
lovers kissing in the advent
of sunsets over the horizon.
swift breeze that meddles with hair.
sand trapped between toes,
moistened occasionally.
silent eyes meeting by chance,
hidden by smiles and masks -
sharing eternal nights
in the arms of strangers.
misty-eyed vengeance and
death-defying misunderstanding.
tasty luncheons and quiet times
by the beach.
water guzzling out of faucets
and slowly churning blood into it.
this i wouldn't trade for the world.

summer in boracay.
'wish i was there.