Las Palmas Reales

1

The palm trees clustered together on this beach,

transplanted here almost fifty years ago,

require not even a single word of praise—

unfortunately, I am not like these palms.

The bluish green Caribbean creates no sense

of urgency for them, no sense of being

common or disadvantaged. One wants to find

a shark’s fin slicing clean the ocean’s surface

but finds, instead, the light of late afternoon

arriving. It has always been this way.

The tourists are captivated by a boy

who chops the head of a coconut clean off

and drinks the water hidden within its dark

and solid husk. Amazing, they say. But this,

this is as common as salt, as common as rain.