22 hours to get here,
to Ubud
and the end of the world.
We’re closer to Australia
than Japan where we live.
In 22 hours
we could almost
reach Ottawa.
Almost.
But we came here
instead.
Eat. Read. Sleep. (Swim.)

Now people say
a lot of things.
They have opinions
about Ubud
and the “Eat~Pray~Lovers”
who visit.
In our (rented) glass house
we try not to pass judgment
on the vacation plans of others
or what they might be looking for.
Are there women here
seeking their Felipe?
Sure.
Can you blame them?

Ubud
offers lush greenness.
Rice fields to soothe
the shattered soul.
Food made with love
and fresh ingredients.
Warmth.
Peace.

We eat outside.
It’s rainy season
and the night sky
sometimes lights up
with a spectacular storm show.
(They should sell tickets.)
Distant mountains are revealed.
We find them on a map
and plan a day trip
to the Northern Coast.

At night
the cicadas
bust out their best
rock and roll
while the bull frogs
sing back up.

We share the glass house
with nature.
A gecko appears
at the end of the shower,
pretends not to see us.

A pond explodes
with plump gold fish.
(Balinese cats
must be
terribly tempted.
Or happy and fat.)

Yellowed leaves,
longer than my feet,
fall slowly
to the ground.
No one hurries in Bali.

If they bulldozed this resort
to the ground ~
the rooms, the restaurants,
the moss-covered statues
of ancient elephants ~
the jungle would reclaim it
in one season.

A young cleaner bows.
“Madam, we have finished
cleaning your room.”
Never have sweeter words
been spoken by a man
to a woman.

If this is the end of the world,
we feel fine.

* Photo credit: Photo of gecko taken by DP. You can see more of his work here.