Where the coconut stands and the tourists lounge, I feel the heat on the ground. Where the waters are full of salt and my feet get tickled by the sand.
No matter the tourists, the beach remains untainted, the sand with its home for turtle eggs, and the seas full of swordfish and whales.
Yet, I hate it.
Skin gets full of sand, sands full of beer cans, it takes a full-time job to clean the car, all of this for what? For some memories of the crystal blue seas?
Living in Cabo brought me many valuable experiences that I appreciate. But this poem expresses my issues with people who think life is paradise. I have my own problems with home, the same as you do.