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.