Yet ... some great pain
Arrives at the airport,
Loads onto the blue vans,
Sits listless through the variations
Of sun, sea and sand
Manufactured by the tropical machine.
At night it wears balloon hats
At El Squid Roe hospital of pain,
Where sushi chef orderlies
Dance without smiles
And force-feed tequila
To the conga line
As they administer
Emergency shocks
To nervous systems:
Flashing lights, shivering liquids,
Go-go platforms pounding
In dark deafening sound.
Such extremities are needed
To relieve the misery of living
Without feasible dreams.
A skeleton hangs on a noose
In red socks and Nike shoes
To warn against the dangers
Of not partying.
