Love's a bamboo raft

Love’s a Bamboo Raft.



Puerto Lemon, Costa Rica, how can I forget!
Warm sand I was building a raft when she
walked by, and was the first esoteric woman
I have ever seen she floated through air.
The one I was building the raft for, (she had
sent me a letter of regrets,) my plan was to
sail across the ocean, a new Kon Tiki man,
ask her to reconsider; but now - on the spot-
I forgot her name.

Maria, my new desire, and the object of my
lovelorn devotion, took me by the hand, led
me to her diffident house on long stilts
Dawn in Costa Rica, isn’t a lingering affair
lasting till noon, instant sun warming green
bananas. My raft had drifted out to sea, it’s
only cargo, a six pack of lukewarm beer, yet
I hoped a thirsty fisherman would find them
before the sea got frisky.