All I have to do is close my eyes.
All I have to do is close my eyes and I can see the Pacific Ocean.
I can see the waves rolling off the offshore islands in Costa Rica.
I can feel the salt air on my skin, blowing
through the rustic hillsides right across my face.
I can smell the coconuts, the monkeys, the dust off the road.
All I have to do is close my eyes and I can see
the beaches of St. Thomas.
I see the snorkelers bobbing, lazily prone in the gentle water.
I hear the birds – left, right, and all around me sending kisses to the breeze.
I feel the sand on my ankles that didn’t get knocked off
from earlier this morning.
All I have to do is close my eyes and I can be in Key West.
I taste the margaritas as the froth that
lingers around the rim slides out and past my lips.
I smell the boat fuel as the ships come in and
the wharfies walk out to receive the fresh catch.
I hear the music all around me, vibrating my soul
to a higher level of conscious.
All I have to do is close my eyes and I can be in Anguilla.
I smell the smoke as the pork cooks on the beach grill.
I feel the stress evaporate off my shoulders as the sun rings me back to life.
I see the white sand fade easily into clear water
that disappears into the blue horizon.
All I have to do is close my eyes and I’m in Puerto Rico.
The vibrant colors beat into my eyes and spark thought in my mind.
The merengue from far off enters my ears and my heart picks up.
Memories of this place flood my being and age
drips off of me like the sweat down my back.
All I have to do is close my eyes and I’m a South Beach resident.
I close my eyes and I’m drinking a Carib in St. Maartin.
I taste the fish amok in Cambodia.
I see shooting stars smear across the sky of a Portuguese beach town.
I smell the sun tan lotion soaking into my t-shirt in the Bahamas.
I hear the Spanish pedal off my tongue in Belize.
I hear the boats travel down the Dutch canals.
I hear 3 generations playing marimbas in Cozumel.
I open my eyes to sip my tropical drink.
And I’m here.
On a rainy day.
Eating pizza at Bottom’s Up.
Or am I.
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