Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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The sea is calm, 32 degrees centigrade
Not even evidence of the swell, blue
marine plane to the thin horizon
capped in pastels and haze, ripples
un-numbered giving texture, expressing
the faint form of the surface breeze.
Lots of people waiting for bread
free bread, taking an hour of your time
now a break after an hour in a bank
supposedly, rain today, only languor
of longing, no breeze as the heat slowly
climbs, a slow death to the complacent
nostalgia, memories held dear in fear
of separation, stillness of morning
an effort to respond, to wake, to work
no rain yet barely a puff of cloud
fallen shoulders, resigned faces enduring
the hottest summer on record, for me
triangular transactions from the weary
embargo adding more papers, broken
reasons, labor the ingenious entrepreneur
another form of war while starving millions
to satisfy an insatiable greed yet in defense
other nations form new alliances to insulate
themselves, exposed to the high risk
of irresponsible greed of gringos
the eventual total dollar collapse
and chaos of a bankrupt nation, all moral
capital squandered, peace is not good
business, John Lennon gave his life
for the slogan “give peace a chance”
anti-American in its context, we suffer
the consequences in blank stares, fallen
heads, crestfallen, legs buckling, tomorrow
all fades into irrelevance, walking shadows
beneath the laurels and alamos
near the beach, avenues of flamboyan
in bright orange blossoms contrast

the sullen heat challenging despondency
at night, dizzy in darkness with light
shocking your pupils randomly, later
convergence of silences fold into a wrinkle
of time intense complete, words alone
separated from the spoken, written down
their syntax makes music. I try to preserve
a chronology, mainly hidden between
the lines, words merely sign posts.

  1. Jan G. Otterstrom F.

August 15, 2009
Somewhere between Cuba
And Costa Rica