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even the swimming pools are shaped like islands.
Tahiti, Maui, Kona Kai.
Bronzed bodies leg-to-leg, sharing sweat,
drinking Mai Tais out of the same straw.
“Romantic South America,”
a walking tour of the plantation.
Couples hiding side-by-side in the tall grass,
strolling and sucking on pure-cane sugar,
glued together, it seems, for life.
“The Wine Country,”
Provence, The Loire Valley
Sipping Muscadet from
the same wineglass,
nibbling either end of
the cracker spread
with Crottin de Chavignol,
Until lips meet in the middle.
Decisions, decisions.
So hard to choose.
Husband divorced,
Kids away at college,
so much free time on my hands.
Who’s kidding who?
I will be here through the summer,
through the autumns without colors,
and the winters without snow.
Where I spend all my “vacations,”
just me and my travel catalogue.
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