Practically a NativeThe locals go about their business, poor,
But aren't they picturesque? You mingle
With them at the market, buy the trinkets
That they make, then head back to the private
Beach that lies behind your nice hotel.
A week or two of sand and sun, and you
Return to Omaha, respendent in your
Batiqued blouse and scarf, the barrettes
In your hair. You tell your friends
That you've gone native. You wish
You could stay down there, content
To live as do the locals,...
But for being poor.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 52 times
Written on 2018-09-04 at 13:34
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