Time Share

by Laurie Barton

Paradise sold on the honeymoon-
a holiday pitch, a heartless game

played with a Venezuelan salesman.
He hates us while remembering our names.

$800 a month: a luxury room,
infinity pool. Princeville, Cancun,

Kona or Quintana Roo. French toast,
coconuts, yoga, jacuzzi for two.

By the time we refuse him, our chips are all gone.
Dry strips of turkey attract a big fly.

Skipping the edges of sandwich, so
dizzy, a pattern of plunder.

The two of us kindle the courage to leave
by rubbing our bare legs together.

Sly glances cast at the ocean:
no contract to sign, not a fee.