The flowers in the patio barrels lean
windward, conversations slipstream
through the palapa breezeway over trays
of melons, pesto and garlic. Paradise
can be found in this shaded café by the shore,
where I should be sunning myself
to a mocha tan, claims the latest batch
of spam that filters into my cubicle.
Should be, instead of exposing myself
to fluorescent bombardment, xenon rays,
radon gas and the godknowswhatelses lurking
like snakes in this modern highrise Eden.
I'd rather face a UV threat
wearing a sarong and SPF-30 any day.

April 2006