
Hotel Caesar Augustus






in the pool, they are tan with a cocktail in hand, the buzzed on winter vacation drink corona, tecate, modelo, cold cans and bottles reflect sun-drenched bodies, dipping tortilla chips in guacamole, pacific ocean december sunsets and gracias por la cerveza, bartenders wear red & white hats, but i can’t imagine santa visiting here, where footballs splash near plastic margarita glasses, and waiters wear fake smiles while working christmas eve, i try to find the deeper meaning in this alcohol and chlorine, relaxation, i suppose, but all i see is vapid sunshine, starlight without a soul.
i have seen the goats nibbling on me, and the tan skin glistening with mediterranean sea that surrounds me, i grow perfect red and orange tomatoes, green arugula, and lemons, never to be forgotten, my sun is famous, kids even drink it with a straw, i’ve changed since the roman days when tiberius used to throw unfortunates from my steep rocky cliffs, now yachts undulate near my shores, celebrities film me with their phones, visit me in july and august, i am the mastic trees, bougainvilla, the bees, and cicadas, i am shady pathways through woods, and luxury hotels, i am the smell of grilled octopus and aperol spritz, summer in the square, i hear it all, dutch, spanish, italian, german, english, arabic, french, tamil, russian, swedish, i am the world on an island, but when winter comes i hibernate like a bear, rain, fog, and wind engulf me, daylight disappears in the afternoon, the caprese families stay on me, i hear their children, watch them walk to church on sundays, they slumber softly at night, i bless them all.
