PR Reverie

POETRY

by Caitlin MacCutcheon

It is easy to remember

the feeling of a dusk breeze through palm trees,

the way we siphoned rum into water bottles,

and the sweetness of guava juice

dripping from chapped lips.

as I bought a 6 pack

for 8 dollars at 16 and a half.

It is easy to remember

the broken glass of forgotten bars covered in graffiti

and horses roaming past

a drug lord’s home –

abandoned

with a blind mutt in the courtyard

and a pregnant Pitbull in the back.

It is easy to remember

witchcraft magazines and

rice and beans

painted with guacamole salsa acidity,

floodgates and beach lighting,

car sickness

and bloodied sea-glass.

It is easy to remember

what it was like to be

the better fit for the older man than my older sister.

To pass him a joint

sitting on driftwood

as he stared slack jaw stoned

at me putting my lips to a handle of Don Q liquor.

It all comes back in

moments and silhouettes,

in phrases and the feeling

of being drunk, peeing

on some rich person’s cabana,

stopping at the shack on the side of the road for a bushel of bananas

walking home to the rustling of mating iguanas.