Caribbean Sea / by Thomas Ott

I want to know how Hemingway felt when he first saw Cuba. Did he see the mountains break through the horizon first? Or did it appear as if by magic across the rolling gulf waters?

I see you across the room. An undiscovered flower, hidden among the noise and entrapment of society. Will you take my hand if I offer it? May I have this dance?

My training wheels are off, my father gives me the last push. Freedom flows through my hair and sweaty t-shirt. Two wheels. Oh the places I will go!

My friend, you went too early into that good night. You led the way but your light dims. It’s getting harder to remember you everyday. Too early I say, right on time you say.

My love, will you wash me with water? Pour its coolness over me, touch me tenderly. Drain me to sea where the water will carry me away.

Carry me away
On white crest capped waves
Carry me away
in deep currents

Carry me away

to Cuba

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