Argentina

a woman sends you
an e mail, she's from
south america and her
name is esmeralda.
she wants you to come
and make love to her.
she sends you pictures
of herself on the beach
in a white bikini.
her legs are long and
her black hair is wet,
glistening down
her back. she is
smiling. she is full
of moonlight. so without
blinking you board
a plane and head for
argentina. you have
never been there, but
you suspect that it's
very hot, so you buy
a white suit and
a white fedora to
shade your eyes. you
have all of your money
in a suitcase. you
have sold your house,
your car, cashed in
your savings, sold
your furniture, all of
your belongings are gone
except what for what
you carry, and what you
wear. you have told no
one where you are going.
no farewell notes have
been written. it's
better that way.
you are free to start
a new life, here, in
a country that you
don't know the language,
that you don't have
a clue as to where
you are, or how to
get around. you feel
like you've done this
before though,
many times. you get
off the plane and look
for her, but she's not
there waiting, she's
no where in sight, so
you wait and wait, but
the day turns into night
and she is not to be
found. and so you
begin to walk, you
notice how blue the
sky is as the sun sets,
how green the trees are.
it's a strange world
of exotic birds,
and dark eyes,
but it's very humid
and your suit is wet
on your skin, you
are suddenly tired
and lost. you feel
that once again you
may have done the wrong
thing, fallen in love
with an ephemeral woman
and given up everything
to have her.