Saturday, July 31, 2010

Aruba Haiku-ba!

Postcards may be an endangered species. With wireless everywhere, you're never really out of touch. But I'm still a little old-school. I like sending them. And from what I gather, people still like getting them. Getting real mail is fun! The problem, though, is that it's hard to make vacation postcards exciting. You have next to no room to write (though this is less of a problem if you're a skilled Twitterattzo), but really..."Having a great time! It's lovely here! See you soon, SUCKERS." Not the world's greatest prose.

But Lisa and I have this figured out. We decided to detail last month's vacation in a bunch of haiku poems, and distribute them among our pals. We put a lot of thought into this. We made sure that no two people in the same social circle received the same poems. Of course, this assumes, pretty narcissisticly, that our pals would be so damn delighted that SURELY they would be comparing which little nuggets o'verse they received from us. Which is highly unlikely. But the point is we were being THOUGHTFUL.

So, five weeks after the fact, we're pretty sure that the third-class mail system has delivered all of the postcards (I said we were thoughtful. I didn't say we weren't cheap), so here is the complete Aruba Haiku-ba collection. Poetry, you guys. Classy stuff.

Get up, go to beach.
Drink, eat. Go to beach. Eat more.
Life is very hard.

Poor application
of SPF 70
yields grotesque patterns.

The girl is splotchy.
Kerry just wanted a base.
The skin cancer brews.

Mission Statement
Our mission here is
to keep a constant buzz and
wear no proper pants.

Dangerous terrain
and guess what? You are driving.
This is not a joke.

The jeep bumps along
and I never thought this was
how I'm gonna die.

Parrotfish seems nice
but he's only using you
for your Wonder Bread.

Well, in retrospect,
Kite Runner and Black Dahlia
make for weird beach reads.

Single men are scarce.
It's okay, there is some rum.
Birds flock to the bar.

Just when things look bleak
along comes the Dutch navy.
There is hope again.

Hors d'Oeuvres
Cheese is so awesome.
We eat a lot of gouda.
Yum on a triscuit.

Mistaken Identity
Who is the old guy
singing Sinatra? Oh, it's
the prime minister.

Good Morning
I don't care that it's
only 10:30. There is
rum to drink, dammit.

Cocktail Hour
Ice clinks in Robyn's
glass, signaling a request:
More coconut rum.

Uninvited Guest
The sea is tranquil.
Calm. Clear. Without disturbance.
'Til fish in my pants.

Threat From Above
Pretty sky. I look
up to see blue. Or am I
soon pelican food?

Either Way A Winner
Icy clear with salt
makes me happy. Ocean? Or
margarita glass?

Acid Reflux
Lasagna is good.
I'm uncomfortably full.
It's cool...I caught it.