it was 1988
the morning after a thunderstorm
that washed part of the mountainside down
i caught my first sight of Ajijic.
my plane arrived late, and the first i knew of Mexico
was rich tropical air, and then, the white-painted waists
of roadside trees in the heavy, sub-tropical night.
i woke in a room that faced into a courtyard
graced with a flame-tree in bloom
standing in washed morning sun
my feet touching earth
i was entirely alive.