Here are the tropics

The fruit is sweeter

The air is thicker

I sweep the tiles daily

The geckos clack loudly

There must be hundreds in my house- my own house

I leave my windows wide open

I light candles in my room

And incense to keep the mosquitos at bay

They still find me, though

I pretend to understand more French than I do

For the sake of flowing conversation

Months pass without enclosed shoes

The land is moist and fertile

Life bursting everywhere, lush

Pineapple, coconut, sweat

There is little change between midnight and the sun’s zenith

There is little change month to month

Everyday is 28 degrees, all year- there are no seasons here

Yet the change within a day is grand

Sun then storm between breakfast and lunch

I have been here for only two months

And I already bump into people I know weekly or more

Everyone is close at all times

I hitchhike often

I learnt from the bus driver today that Pape’ete means cup of water

What a beautiful name for a port

There are things to discover beyond the headphones