No Camera At The Ready Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

No Pictures Taken
I see the pictures sent to me on my Facebook page of places
I have not seen yet in countries I have been to as a seaman
who join the sea out of poverty at home and offered
an education no importance and factory pipes spewing smoke
smelling of sardines and cod liver oil
I recall Costa Rica a small town in a bay the jungle appeared
near and lush ready to hide the town should be human activities
stop. And the cockerel crewed as I got up from Maria`s trafficked
bed running down a winding road to the docks and on my ship to
the routine work with sleep walkers who like me and only saw
the beauty of the land in glimpses of dreams a Paradise lost.
Saddening, there were never any lazy days to walk around and
to take pictures we were not tourists.
Part Two:
Alone in a beautiful park and felt like the eternal wandering Jew
hoping to be accepted by the locals. There was never any time to
know anyone; guiltily I found my way back to the bars, the music,
the Marias willing vulvas` oily route; rum& coke sleep in a woman's
arms inhale her scent another Paradise lost before the cock crewed.
I look at the pictures of contentment, actors on a stage of life playing
happy to play the tragic roles they need a bit more experience.