In The Rum Jungle


Under a thatched roofed gazebo,

crowding pedestrians hide in shade.

It's the index stricken outer competition

of the hottest day in the Florida keys.

The bamboo hunting sticks

bare monofilament strings,

with ornamental hooks fastened,

to catch exotic rarities,

the ocean has to offer.

As the nightfall climbs,

the intensified drunken stupor.

A glimpse of serenity engulfs

that which you're use to.

And you begin to dance

with your frosted pina colada.

free, and without worry.

In the rum jungle.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

An Improv written in a AOL Chat Room,    (Poetry Tag Group)

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