our pilot announced that –
due to volcanic ash
from the nearby eruption –
he was putting down
prematurely
on some island
in the Bermuda triangle,
I knew
we were on a hiding
to nowhere.
* * *
Through blood-red sunset,
dusty with snake charmers,
novelty dentists
and multi-lingual beggars,
we went
in search of a meal.
Half a goat’s head
and some boiled snails.
Not the menu
we’d hoped for.
I’m allergic to eyeballs.
* * *
In the dense forest
halfway up
we were stopped
by Volkspolizei, bristling
with sub-machine guns.
They interrogated
our newly-grown beards,
but found no evidence
in the boot
or under the seats.
Didn’t test the door panels – good job.
* * *
By the time
we reached the city limit
of Zolfo Springs,
we couldn’t tell
whether sunstroke or dysentery
would do for us first.
Giant catfish lurked
in a mosquito pool.
Falling lemons dented the bonnet.
A chainsaw in the distance –
but not in Texas.
xi. 2021
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