miles away
on golden sands
of Playa del Carmen
i’m striding for that
Acapulco Gold.
among the swathe
of white tourists –
amigo spots me
& waves.
i fan my face
at the fringe
of The Caribbean Sea
and waving back
he’s drawn away
from attending
the tanned lady
cladded in darkers
on the sun bed.
he’s rushing my way
shouting… hombre,
you searching for that
Acapulco Gold?
he places something
in my palm.
police ’round here?
they’re paid anyway.
i scrutinese the herb,
rubbing it,
twirling it in my fingers
as the earthy smell
seeps up my nose –
you see amigo,
10 US dollars & he froze.
then 20 US dollars,
add another bud
then consider it
sold.
Another Poem by Skendong – Herbless Pursuit: 42nd Street Antics in Manhattan’s Heart