Nattaproblem

A NOVEMBER ISLAND.

A poem by Nattapon Jontom Abbett

Off the plane, the colors hit like fresh crescent waves

Walls adorned with the Spanish movers and shakers

Creators of sound that spur to itchy rhythms.

Maracas, bombas, templeque, arroz con dulce; indulgence.

Stepping foot on the island for the first time

Immediately imbibing the foundation of this American territory

but simultaneously aware of its Spanish history.

400 years worth of Spanish history.

Cangrejas, terns, sand pipers congregate near my feet.

Smells of Arroz con pollo and Pollo guisado distract me from the sea.

People talking, laughing and discussing their sights while they eat

Capitulating their egos to the flood of blue serenity.

San Juan to Lajas to La Parguera; the odyssey of gen z moves.

Intermixed with millenials to keep their errant tendencies at bay.

Diving into the azure, we explore the mangroves.

Abundant starfish, sea urchins and fish throughout the mangrove-cay.

Oxygen, water and salt move together in the night

Lapping waves against the boat cajoling us to take the leap

Luciferace catalyzing proteins to emit sparks of light

Disorderly movements creating photonic beams in the deep.

Looking into the night sky keeps the portal open, breathing.

A blessing of sight fills our senses for one Caribbean autumn

Resting, yet growing like a restorative shot of somatropin.

Blissful and serene, we lose sight of rock bottom…

…deep within…an avatar.

The convergence of sea and sky a friendly reminder:

Lines of substance connect each atomic element

Holding the importance of our inner vicinity together.

Calm and controlled, voices soft but vehement.

Phrases of note that echo around the territory:

Ay bendito! Wepa! Al Garete!

Surprised greetings between friends and fellow Boricuans.

Conversations between a tourist and a local Broki.

Formally unincorporated but free since 1898,

In the barrios, kids rejoice in conejo malo’s beats.

Cuatro rhythms accompanying Bomba’s 5, 6, 7, 8…

Yankee, and Anthony pulling people from seats.

Island life, a blend of cultures in order of conquest.

Taino and Spanish, the masked vejigantes.

Hiding the fear whilst mocking in jest.

Bright colors shrouding darkness of past defeats.

Awareness builds at the conclusion of this island trip.

Another stamp in the memory banks.

Trades of consideration with each coffee drip.

Picturesque moments appreciative of thanks.

Gracias Puerto Rico,

Nattapon Jontom Abbett