Passports

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