Reflections on a port

to Puerto Escondido
neither a port
nor hidden
for the suns rays
find their way
here
nonetheless;

as do
the white folks
who flock
and crash
into the coast,
a force stronger than
the tide;

their
burnt red backs
crawling
the shore,
crabs whose bellies
linger
a few inches beyond
their belt line;

the youngsters
though slim
stuff themselves,
morbidly obese with
booze drooling
from their bloodstream;

this
to them
is paradise.

the locals,
tolerant,
have cultivated the
perfect smile.

it says:

thank you
for your money,
we just
hope
you treat our beaches
better than
your bodies.

it cries:

we're glad you
love our waters,
drink in
all that we have.

but
don't our eyes
shine
just as blue?

we're glad
you enjoy the
warmth
of our sun.
breathe it in
until it
screams
from your skin.

but
doesn't our skin
sing
the same
chorus?

what
separates the
brown
of our earth
from the
brown of our feet?

your eyes all
but see
us.

are we
not beautiful
too?