Greek Isles
I sat there awaiting
the ferry coming ashore
from the Greek mainland
from the port of Glyfada
touring the isles
Ascending the ship
in my beach attire
my bikini beneath
I long to swim upon the ferry
To my disappointment
no swimming pool found
for the ship, unlike the picture
I was forced to reluctantly wait
To step ashore and test the waters
but some beaches unsuited
where waves hit upon clips
I could not swim
Upon narrow island roads,
I trod down pacing
narrow roads
among taverns and shops
Vultures flying overhead
Seeking strong meats
of foul smell
while I stood to admire
Men diving off cliffs
enjoy the warm waves
of beautiful Mediterranean waters
cooling off in the waters
Avoiding Lesbos and Spinalonga
we looked around islands
whichever way I turned
I see a Greek feeding his dog
Beneath dinner tables
on Taverna patios
bouzouki playing softly
fellow men dancing
Flies swarming over tables
seeking honey drizzled
on blue and white checkered
table cloths
Families dancing Sirtakis
as taught by Zorbas
upon the pavement
others joining forming circles
I Remember
I remember a time
I was ten years old
I had to home school
with a tutor at home
I remember the house
crowded with sleepovers,
adults sitting on the couch
children on the carpeted floor
I remember my father
taking the family to Greece
the Golden Age Hotel
where no kitchen we possessed
I remember the seventy-five days,
of boring continental breakfast
my mother comparing me
to all my peers
I remember asking my mother
if I could eat breakfast
in a dining room
and her silent response
I remember the long walks
between taverns and shops
the parks of Athens
the restaurants where we ate
I remember the home schooling
in a tiny room
sitting on beds
teaching myself all lessons
I remember the souvlaki
we ate for dinner
and the buns we ate
in front of the television
I remember the tours around Greece
lessons in history
from a tour guide
among strangers in the hotel
I remember Campion School
buildings spread out
among Athens
separating pupils and classes
I remember the bus rides
breakfast I carried
the teacher who starved me
during morning rides
I remember the classmate’s pop
that spilled down my sleeve
because of a long walk
because of a team game
I remember the girl
who took home
the book we shared
leaving me with none.
I remember the classmate
using my tiny eraser
leaving me destitute
not knowing my lesson
I remember putting up
with photocopies
I may study
and she get back the book
I remember the doll
I exchanged with another
only to have a pen
and teta giving me shit