Buenos Del Mar

Most of the following were written on an overnight flight from Santiago to Toronto on March 9, 2020 after a month-long trip through Argentina and Chile which began in Buenos Aires and ended in Viña Del Mar.

Preface by the Author

The request was odd
Yes, almost unthinkable
Fernet sin coca?

A straw-colored thorn
Tiny, light as a feather
A big flat tire

Improbable, yes
But provided enough time
Inevitable

Pull the culprit thorn
Push the bike another mile 
pluck out several more

The tallest mountain 
Is a big mountain atop
Other big mountains

All pastel colors
All possible contours
Crumpled together

Disappointed that 
I didn't see a condor
I saw the mountain

A familiar sound
Absent, only imagined 
Heard, yes, but not felt

The cubes of white cheese
The glossy salami rounds
The mound of olives

The wine keeps flowing
I hack at a giant steak
Flushed, with bruised fingers

Pissing up a wall
Alongside a busy street
An eternity

Knowing that I can't
I'm trying to roll my "r's" 
Just to make her laugh

A difference between 
Being shy and curious
I wondered is all

While away the time
Doing whatever you would
But on foreign soil

Indeed it appears
I came halfway round the world
Just to have a drink 

A bottle of wine
A huge plate of cold seafood
We finished the wine

I ate a hot dog
With just ketchup and mustard
That's what i wanted

Why a sleek black cat
Sleeps only on the two cars
Peppered with bird poop

Meandering routes
Each day a different odd shape
Squiggles on a page

Simple adherence
Would have me think there's one road
I see other roads

Dog shit on the street
Either strays or negligence
Well, i stepped in it

Posh outdoor seating 
We are ever so politely 
Refusing beggars

A tank top tan line
A sandal strap tan line too
Naked but not nude

Three beautiful homes
No definitive favorite
Three beautiful homes

Same thing, different price
Same price, different thing, only…
I set the value

Collecting memories
Any odd thing, whatever
Can't help it really

The story I tell
The story told about me
The tree no one hears 

Some things forgotten
Some missed opportunities
What did you expect?

A big bland sandwich
Impossible to pick up
Becomes a salad

The minimalist
Tours a maximalist home 
And wants to live there

The maximalist
Encounters simplicity 
And thinks he's simple

Entering my room
I see my true colors shown
Good enough alone

A journey finished
A homecoming beginning
An intermingling

Wake up in the morn
Not sure if l'm at home or 
In Viña Del Mar

Read more about the Author on the Uncharted Dives Who? page