Category 4/Vacation - Dustin Vado
***Hurricane Maria, September 2017***
A paradise is being
Torn in half by wind And rain as I order a beer From a cute bartender. While Florida gripes That roofing tiles are on backorder, Puerto Rico still hasn’t found Abuela’s body in the flood water, And the bartender's bikini line Has been waxed for nothing. She works hard and often, Time off is rare, And she is still no closer To having an office job. She planned two weeks in Puerto Rico Six months ago, Bought tickets and reserved A place to stay, then saw the Radar images on the news And her stomach drowned. “Fuck! My vacation is ruined!” I take a drink of my overpriced beer And suggest that she turn her vacation Into a humanitarian mission - A concept as laughable As Abuela swimming her way Out of a category 4. There are too many ironies at play, So I chuckle and tip her - I still haven’t donated anything to Red Cross… She looks at Puerto Rico As an exotic getaway, Certainly not as American As the redneck paradise of Florida Where they thank God and Trump That global warming is a chinese hoax And the worst of the storm Didn’t hit America. As spoiled as the streets of San Juan, The bartender angrily texts her friends With emoji complaints And frustrated snaps While the Americans Trapped on a nearby island have
Torn in half by wind And rain as I order a beer From a cute bartender. While Florida gripes That roofing tiles are on backorder, Puerto Rico still hasn’t found Abuela’s body in the flood water, And the bartender's bikini line Has been waxed for nothing. She works hard and often, Time off is rare, And she is still no closer To having an office job. She planned two weeks in Puerto Rico Six months ago, Bought tickets and reserved A place to stay, then saw the Radar images on the news And her stomach drowned. “Fuck! My vacation is ruined!” I take a drink of my overpriced beer And suggest that she turn her vacation Into a humanitarian mission - A concept as laughable As Abuela swimming her way Out of a category 4. There are too many ironies at play, So I chuckle and tip her - I still haven’t donated anything to Red Cross… She looks at Puerto Rico As an exotic getaway, Certainly not as American As the redneck paradise of Florida Where they thank God and Trump That global warming is a chinese hoax And the worst of the storm Didn’t hit America. As spoiled as the streets of San Juan, The bartender angrily texts her friends With emoji complaints And frustrated snaps While the Americans Trapped on a nearby island have
No service to make calls,
No way to get supplies stuck at the ports,
No diesel to run the generators at the hospital,
No road to drive to the next state,
And no Abuela to calmly assure,
“Todo estará bien.”
