Rumors of strange rituals

Had piqued our curiosity

And it was early in June

When Karen and I decided to visit the island

Out of a shared curiosity

For primitive things

And vacationing

In warm places

Suitcases in the foyer

And cab called

I stood in the doorway the day we were leaving

And watched her spray her hair

Narrowing her eyes with her head tilted

Jogging the bottle side to side

As she watched herself in the mirror

And started in on her face

Lipstick

Then mascara

Over a tasteful slash of eye shadow

And I stood wondering

Why is Karen getting made up

To visit an island

Full of savages

Who worship the sun

And eat nothing but insects

And rigid island-yams

Cooked over open fires, no doubt

And as we got closer

I became doubtful and pessimistic

Karen noticed and grew sullen herself

Resentful of my withdrawal

But the sand was hot when we hit the shore

And it immediately filled my shoes with hot grit

But Karen slipped gracefully

All but tossing her things on the beach

As her dress billowed perfectly

In the warm wind

That peeled the surf away

Like ripe pear skin

The already distant ferry

Trailing smoke like blackened cotton