The Very Blue Bicycles of Bahia


~~ Peace, and the families come

~~Small bright girls like butterflies flutter by

~~ A small boy with withered legs,
escorted on rainbow wheels
by sisters, his sisters,
through the sunbright courtyards of Bahia.

All is green ("green is the new black, this year"),
and orange, and magenta, paths of brightness
carefully trained to drip from the flat roofs
and peek from between the folds of the modest skirts
of stone-age arborvitae.

Jewel thieves case the place in a red
convertible, kissing goodbye over and over
on behalf of any on-lookers.

From the all but one floor balcony,
the villas across the way
show their false fronts to morning sun
and sparkle.

How peaceful here at the edge of the peaceful sea.

The paper comes before the coffee and croissants.
Do not read it. The Dr.'s eye is dark. Leave it be.

There is a world at war,
and we must not know it;
here, where the houseboys
wheel by on very blue bicycles,
and laughter and squeals of joy
echo from the hidden courtyards.

This is the real world!
It is.

For now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The was written at the Bahia Resort Hotel in San Diego, the day before DeanFest began. (The picture is from Bahia, Brazil.) The night before, we'd spent at a motel in Malibu which was suitably comfy and modern, on the coast highway, and which cost "an arm and a leg". . . . Our room at the Bahia cost less, actually. (Probably because there was some kind of staircase in the middle of it.) My guess is that we were the poorest guests they'd ever had. [ . . . . From $275 - $560 per night] And Edwin, probably the only actor/activist. And me? Nurse's aide/dollmaker?