Here on the Malecón

Caribbean natural music blends
into polychromatic colors, sound and light

motor engines mingle
with lapping upper octave waves

birds in flight & ghost notes hum
trap bass beats from a pimped out car

pra-pra-cata versus Marc Anthony's wao
booming from a jukebox at the local bar

joda que se joda contra la corriente
la noche viene

on the malecón / home away from home playa breezes
smell salty sweet & blues layer in deep formations

pink and orange watercolor-brushed wind chimes
singing coquis mixed into the underpainting of

a picture perfect
postcard

on our block, a green-eyed gray tabby meows under a crescent moon, the black dog with a floppy ear points its tail straight in the air sniffs into the eyes of his friend, a brown horse from down the road

sky full of sunset's distant clouds
hover on the ocean's horizon

against a lonely silhouette
un viejito walking from the beach to his barrio

in the same red tee shirt and the same baseball cap
he wore yesterday

walking after a long day of work
pidiendo chavo en la playa