The boat trip that never was

We were somewhere in the foodcourt
a metaphor for competition
Unwilling to choose a place to eat
confirming with each other

A town that was up and down
narrow roads that almost formed highways
round incredible bends
down through tunnels

Making you think the town is bigger than it is
as you arrive on the other side of the street
you started from

The foodcourt gave off every smell of longing
The gut and tastebuds activated
Survival wasn´t a friend repeating
it was the tongue itself

Confused at all the choice
bedazzled by all of the aromas
And when the mouth and wallet committed
the mind still doubted 

 The boat trip was going to be brilliant
We bought the package our glee erupted
But we were to leave the very next morning
The sandy beaches and well polished boats

The hot wind befuddled us further
The locals had a creative relationship with the truth
In the flicker of a lifetime
One can almost count the moments of leisure

The smell of longing
A new city dressed in foreign attire
No guides or gurus
children in chaos lost within their limited perceptions

The fire of my lust to be at sea
On that rented boat
As ridiculous as a crazy new sport
The thin crunchy crust of my own ambition

The boat would carry us out
From the land so solid and so structured
The waves and false enthusiasm of naiive locals
would take the mind off the familiar tunnel of days