Page 19 - just saying....

I remember when we danced on the platform
in Brookline waiting for the subway,
when we were driving the desert road near Tulum, Mexico,
destination: Cabanas de Ana e Jose,
the rain that fell through the thatched roof
as we lay in our bed,
Rio de Janeiro in Mardi Gras season
when the stands started to shake with the beat of the sambas.
petrified I hung onto the head of the man in front of me.
the crowd parted to let us through
to the juice bar near our hotel – ordering exotic flavors,
watching the voodoo melting in the rocks,
the girl from Ipanema,
a small aquamarine
around my neck for our anniversary.