Alajuela (for Lisa K.)

29 Jan

They stood out on the hostel

balcony

staring out at the sea of lights

in the hills of Alajuela

and neighboring San Jose.

Their paths intersecting

at their trip’s end.

Both he and she

wore tired looks

ready to give up on the day

to start over tomorrow.

He uncorked his bottle of vodka

and spiked his orange juice

in between the jokes and light,

silly conversation.

He  kept reminding himself

to avoid the urge to hold on too long

wanting more than the

moment could offer–

to become guilty of squeezing too much

out of the present.

Though there was something endearing about her

fatigue.

She wore it well.

A subtle gracefulness

in the bags under her eyes and

a comfort in being close to her

which slightly hovered

throughout their day together.

At his age

it was inexcusable

to get caught up

in the idealised and romantic notions

he carried throughout his youth.

He knew he was far better off

drinking his screwdriver

and enjoying the waning

moments of his vacation.

To simply be

in the here and now

and just have a good time

for however long it lasted.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

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