A letter to my friends

Let's move to Toledo and
start over.

no-- let's move to Tahiti and
stop.

Let sand run through our fingers
instead of through glasses

lay on the beach
take in the sun
sip mai-tais and
fruit juice

straight from the can

or from coconut glasses
the boys at the bar
sell at
inflated prices
to tourists and people
we laughingly call idiots.

We don't buy the glasses
we flirt with the boys,
poorly.
They take pity on us
and we get ours for free.

We'll sip and we'll laugh
pretend to be stars
between projects

or bosses, fortune 500,
on third wives and
their thousandth affair

instead of the beach bums
we properly are
living like locals(small house,
work at the market,
try to pay rent)

we can't afford paradise dreams
or penthouse vacations

it's better that way
(the juice tastes sweeter,
sun is warmer,
we laugh more than they
have in a year)

Here, in the cold, we've used
up our strength
of heart, of mind,
our financial gains

the cold locks our joints
we stay in the dark for
eight months on end

So I've thrown up my hands.


Let's get out, start over
Or stop altogether.

Anywhere's better than here.