Neutered

I sat in a steam room eavesdropping on old men. One of them spoke of going on vacation and my mind filled in the blanks for a poem about it.

Fat men with pull string swim trunks wade in the tide of summer days and exotic legs.

The trips to Cabo run dry and the tan lines blister into road signs down to faded arm bands.Their gaze holds true under the brims of hats sewn from bug bitten locals, green rubber crocs with souls lit from the coals above so below.

While the wives lie and search the skies for more, the fat men bury their toes in sand and the exotic legs close from where they began.

Author's Note

Thoughts? I love to hear feedback.

Reviews

[Ruth]

I like the effect of a journey here. The scene is quite vividly portrayed and led my mind to other destinations :)

[Xuru]

Poems sparked from a steam room.

Thank you.