Sunday

The Cuban Boy



The boy brings to mind
another time another
story of an old man,
his boy and the sea.

Hemingway wrote that
one a poor grandfather.
Yes, they had it rough,
the boy, his grandfather.

He battled a fish into
Nothingness.  That was
where he liked to go
best, really into nothing.

And if not nothing maybe
a good long disappearance
into the landscape.  I like
this as well.  You could say

I understand.  I really do.

And that is what they did,
the boy and his grandfather.
They disappeared into their
poverty into their blood,

into their beautiful island life.