Memories of Lompok

I am walking barefoot, alone on the sandy beach every grain offers it's accumulated wealth of sunray to the night which my soles intercept, grateful tiny laughter in the bushes that grow next to the sea swaying on a hammock of wind, dipping branches, like fingers into the place forbidden the sea is calm and kind and black tiny giggles, invisible yet beautiful like bubbles floating lazily on a first warm day of spring laughter of a foreign language yet I am the foreigner, if they follow I fit in when our eyes meet, my smile gives me away and yet out of the darkness, like Alexandria, al revez, in the sky, a mirage of lights the tea must have been potent for the lights can't really be they are bright and many and huge, towering from the sea up to the night and there is nothing like that here there are dragons that will devour a man with only its drool and fish that wield horns and chase you away all the way up onto the shore and giant clams that hide treasures behind their iridescent smiles there are monkeys that watch you, banana in one hand as your bus hugs the curvy road, monkeys that undoubtedly wave bye-bye as soon as you can not see but there is no such thing as this thing that looms just far enough away and thrusts me harshly, unkindly and blind back into the world where I am really from