Walking by the Gate of Atoll Lanta Resort Life

A yellow sheet of halogen light splashes
on the blue plastic chair, spilling shadows
on the grass beside the guard shack
at the gate of Atoll Lanta Resort Life.
The chair is vacant, warped and faded
like the walls of Van Gogh’s bedroom —
misshapen lines unstraightened, bent to a
better degree of artistic fantasy. I imagine
the quiet man who sat for hours in the sun
until his brown skin blackened like a piece
of tropical fruit plucked from a palm tree
before the sea-breeze shook it loose.