I slip the through threads of white cotton curtains that sway, almost sensuously, to a rhythm of island breezes. At my door I stop and look out - coffee in hand leaning against one side of the frame. A bird flies overhead and calls my name - looking up I say "Not yet". The sand comes in over my feet and splays on the floor. Far away, a steel drum tempts me and I jangle my but a little - then throw the coffee cup to the side and run to Caribbean ocean waters - all the while, shedding pieces of clothing as I do and when bare, fall into a clean blue salted ocean. Not a soul to criticize or make comment I float and look at the meager hut I call home. Reaching down and taking handfuls of powdery ocean bed sand I rub it against my teeth - then rinse my mouth with an handful of water that comes from a planet full of it. My body slinks down into the water and my hair is now washed. Not a soul - just me - the water - the sun - wind - floating sand - far off sounds of steel drums and my island.
In the brilliance of the sun as it refracts against purest white sand I can see my son. He must have heard me and now walks to the shore all dressed for school. I see his mouth but cannot discern the words. Slowly I hear him. Papi - wake up! Wake up! Take me to school. My eyes open to another place - another reality.