no more the same
old bathing resorts
my parents took me to
when I was a boy
its time to see
if jaguars and chicle gatherers
know more
than social workers
and employment agents
theres no use in being useful
except in that useless place
so im packing my pocket chess board
my code wheel
and the wrinkled photograph of my father
and im going to find out
once and for all
whether I have a home
in british honduras
if worst comes to worst
i can send myself a postcard
wish you were here
and introduce myself
to the sinister old man
at the other end of the bar
who sells
the one way ticket
to the interior
that is never advertised
but always available