Puerta Vallarta, 3 March 1998

The view from my chair has a palm tree in front
and the Pacific stretching far behind.
Three guys with their beers
by the wall at the sand
Where vendors hock
their serapes, braids, jewelry and kites.
"No gracias," I say, "Possible un otro dia."
On the beach straw umbrellas protect
from the sun
And when I look straight up
I barely see the clouds for the palm trees.