Black sands
Native lands
Good friends (pronounce that so it rhymes)
New eats
Global treats
White Bea-ches
Clear skies
Raucous nights
Brighter lights
Differently metered music
Carnivaled cruise ships
Inidigenous tongues calling me stupid
I imagine the world to be
An adventure
An experience
A wealth of knowledge
But you’d rather pass the time plugged in
While I want to pass ports before the end of my time