Travelling Alone 

Late evening in the Barbados Hotel.

I have a daring whisky

on the rocks instead of my usual

ice-cold plebeian beer.

I want to become invisible,

part of the decoration.



I wander between groups—

the name droppers, the old

acquaintances who meet once a year

in this place known to out-price

the riff-raff. A special offer

tonight from the old oil baron

who hopped over on his private jet

from Venezuela.

Need to get out.



The night is warm and fragrant,

the place almost has a roof,

there’s Rasta hair and pungent

clouds of ganja.

I move to the irresistible beat.

No woman, no cry.




* * * * *

A German-born UK national, Rose Mary Boehm lives and works in Lima, Peru. Author of two novels and a poetry collection (Tangents), her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in US poetry reviews. Toe Good Poetry, Poetry Breakfast, Burning Word, Muddy River Review, Pale Horse Review, Pirene’s Fountain, Other Rooms, Requiem Magazine, Full of Crow, Poetry Quarterly, Punchnel’s, Avatar, Verse Wisconsin, Naugatuck River Review, Boston Literary, Red River Review, Ann Arbor, Main Street Rag, Misfit Magazine and others.

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