Quicksands in Panama provided plenty of

Despair of not moving

Confusion and bulimic crawl

 

I dream of ocean running under the keel

The bubbles of vanishing inertia

Washing through the soul

 

The comfort of a tropical embrace

The indecision of fear

Lasted for too long

 

So the bug bites

And even if I have never been there alone

There is the same craving

 

In the repository for the unsung stories

Locked into the consequences

 of the Universe spinning

 

I start to push

Kick doors in

Bug out

 

What life will make of me?

The monotony of waves

Aren’t you scared they say?

 

Why? I answer

It’s only a ride

And even if I was scared to death

 

Why not try?