Where turquoise skies do beam a sweaty blue!
While buzzing bugs do fly on shiny wings,
A spectral beard of green drifts into view!
The happy swain arrives with grease and oil,
A laughing fellow caked in mud so bright,
While Castro’s ghost glides o'er Floridian soil,
To watch these playful hearts in pure delight!
Through thick, mosquitoed air they do proceed,
And hand in hand they let their bodies slide,
As phantoms puff cigars amidst the weed,
They share a jolly laugh with breathless pride!
They dance and sing in hot and sticky sweat,
While swampy fragrance mixes with decay,
A ghostly shadow turns them violet,
And sends their giggles winding on their way!
A little chest holds moldy Limburger,
Beside a puppy with a pirate’s crest,
A Marxist spirit watches in a blur,
And bounces on the sheets where they did rest!
Then Donald Trump leaps wildly on the bed,
With orange glow and windswept, yellow hair,
While El Comandante floats overhead,
And yells out "Tariffs! Tariffs!" in the air!
The door flies open for a jolly guest,
An artist dressed in blue and tight Speedo,
With Cuba's specter watching what's expressed,
Who sings a bright mariachi with a glow!
He tosses hats into the heavy air,
While outside, salt-spiced winds begin to rise,
The military ghost stands floating there,
And brings a splash of gulf-stream to their eyes!
The tropical gales blow and spin the cheese,
The swimming pup, the happy lovers' plight,
The phantom drifts past singers on their knees,
In swirling, blue, and most amusing night!
Now see the tempest suddenly recede,
As softer winds let go their playful might,
The floating ghost applauds the backward deed,
To bring a hush upon the blue-tinged night!
The bouncing leader leaves his tariff song,
The happy artist packs his final hat,
The green fatigue-clad shadow glides along,
To leave a quiet chamber where they sat!
The sneezing whelp does find a cozy rest,
No longer swimming in a watery grave,
While Castro blesses cheese of foul protest,
Within the broken chest that silence gave!
A deeper warmth returns to sticky skin,
As spectral revolutions fade from view,
Banishing all the chaos that had been
With majestic peace inside the azure room!
The joyous swain, now cleansed of mud and oil,
Clasps tight his love in ultimate embrace,
No longer watched by ghosts of foreign soil,
Rejoicing in this calm and sacred space!
And now, beneath the glorious midnight hour,
With hearts that soar above the wind and rain,
A brilliant splendor floods the azure bower,
Forever safe from storm and hurricane!
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