Cuba, thoughts

It's a myth. Many, really.
All woven and stitched tight.
Like a baseball?

A happy green alligator basking in the warm seas of the Caribbean
A communist hell and a socialist paradise
An island wiped clean of the scourge
of racism?
of exploitation?
of alienation?
of hope?

An island of peaceful people, as are all people from islands of these latitudes : it's the geography
A Che Guevara shirt on a black boy in South Africa

Hasta La Victoria, Siempre. In a soccer stadium in Greece.

and we dream, we hold our breath
but do we believe?
in what?

In the malecon and fields of sugar cane
In the hustle – everyone has a hustle
In this bush protecting us from the rain and the red dirt of Viñales
In the most beautiful flag in the world
In swimming in the ocean at sunset
In the P1 coming

Venceremos.

and we laugh, but mostly we are tired
and we ask, against who?
and it rains but the mangoes still taste like a dream

I would dance, but I'm a rockero
Let's dive into the ocean
Let's find some rum

¿Que vola?

You think you know it. It's for the workers. Are you a worker? Is He?
You think the oyster will open, and you can come take the pearl.
You want it, we can get it. You have it, we can want it.
You think it's all a lie.

La batalla de ideas.

but aren't we all?
and where are the ideas?
and where are the books?
the ones worth reading.

But maybe it's life
And maybe it's like this everywhere, just with a different name
We all have our own problems, no?
So just give up. Turn off. Quit. Or get yours and

Get out.
One last look in the mirror
before they haul you out of the Habana Libre
and in that last look, you think you can see Cuba – if that's what you want to see.