I saw nothing
and nothing happened.
I anticipated seeing chimpanzees
swinging from trees,
rhythmically as they belched
indistinguishable and intimidating grunts;
I assumed I would see multicolored parrots
swooping high over our heads
as hard, refreshing rain massaged our bodies,
keeping us composed
and soon run for shelter
under a canopy of palm trees.
El Yunque was still,
and the sun mocked us
as we hiked.
“No one can know,” he demanded.
“Know what?” I asked.
“You know why you are here.”
His Levis 511 unzipped.
He leaned against the moss-covered tree
with teeny snails climbing the moist bark.
“You know what to do or you won’t make it back down the mountain.”
We made it back down the mountain.
We stopped for dinner in Luquillo
along the beach
waiting for the food to digest
and for words to come
as nothing became nothingness and
the ocean air disturbed no more.