Dock -side not Dark -side.

She did it again. It is the truth. She always finds a great little nest when we take a vacation -whatever. I'm now dockside on the island of Tortola, British, VI. This place is like so cute; I'm going to like this. Our nest is over looking the Moorings, a cluster of sail boats where in two days hence I will rendezvous with friends and sail out of the harbor to who knows where. Road Town is just too developed for me. No Mann! I'm no island Mann here. But, the most unique thing: they did not fuck with me as I went through customs. It must be the islands, Mann. Otherwise, Interpol just loves to crawl up into the crevasses of my -undies. For example, last year clearing customs on my way to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico they kept me tied up in the terminal so that they could make sure that there was no way for me to get to the free drinks at the reception stand for your favorite time share tour. Fuck! I really do love taking those walks through la la land with the Dream Merchant. Anyway, for the next two days I'll be resting, reading away the truth of life's charade. Yes! I do not wish to be disturbed. Tell me a good tale my Mann; I'll share my space with thee. But first let me tell you what happened on the way out of town. I was in Charlotte Amalie on the island of St. Thomas in the US Virgin islands where I met Anna. She is the one who gave me the corn -rows and beads. I became a big hit even among the locals. I think it is because I chose to mimic their ways. But, you never know -I might just be the newest lead in trending. For remember now, I'm in my 70's on the way to the other side of midnight.  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Bar...fly...!

Tasteless: life!

Freedom! evil art