PANAMA

Last Day in Palenque*

FROM THE TRAVEL DIARY OF KILO FOXTROT

Over there, my underwear is hung around a river plant. The river cleans the ocean off. Jittering in hot, hot wind, between the wind and ground is pinned, the leaves invite the sun. Men come through the worksite woods to watch me topless lunch.

In the back of my mind, the boy with pushy pupils asks, "OK, now where's your cheek?" The rim of his hat is obscured in the blackness. He kisses my hair to my face in the darkness. He waves every finger goodbye. Individually.

In the back of the trees, above my bit of jungle piled on the sea, a silent burst of palm fronds waves a single leaf, a distant wrist, completely switched, from fully flat to backward flat again, to say goodbye.

Across the beach, my friends are walking toward my ledge. They don't see me waving yet.

*It ended up not really being the last day in Palenque. Two days later, we finally escaped to Panama City.