The Mexican wind blows,

Evaporating droplets of pleasure,

From my sunburnt skin.

There’s a disparity in between,

The fastest sunset and the slowest sea,

I’ve ever seen.

We’re at the top of our game,

Laughing in wide toothed gaiety.

The women enchant,

Are self-entranced.

I hear the cartoon tuba blare,

Through thrilled speakers,

And the on-listeners are dazzled,

By the second dimension’s unlooked-for expanse.

Yet beneath it all a gross query lurks.

It is a question that shrieks,

Loud and unanswered,

Within some moonlit subconscious.

“What is the nature of true merriment?”