Everyday, large buses fill our dirt road
Stuffed with gawking tourists
following the same road
our ancestors did to find this place
These strangers peer at us
like some carnival sideshow attraction
Their squinting eyes miss our world
The place we live, and matters
While the buses slow, enough
for the strangers to snap their pictures
So little they will ever know
So much we will hide from them
So few of their dollars, francs and yen make it our way
Just barely enough
to make us dream past our rusted white icebox
made in 1939 in Evansville, Indiana
Just enough they leave behind, to make us wonder
how long before our sons and daughters grow restless
with their Tico roots, and trade
their Costa Rican country life for some LA ghetto
Poetic Alchemist 
Opps, I meant Don Iannone but also well put Dan
Thanks Dan well put. Makes me think one good outcome of the global recession is that it will hopefully slow down the frantic development that is ruining our beautiful country, filling the pockets of greedy developers and thoughtless citizens who choose to sell out today for an uncertain tomorrow. It is a process that takes away the innocence and infects our children and nature. Everyday that passes endangered species are being replaced by aggressive people crafting to cut, cage and profit from all that is beautiful taking us further away from our once unique culture of Pura Vida.
Thanks Polona. You’re SO right. It’s an ongoing practice for all of us, I think.
not easy to put oneself in other’s boots but you have done it well.
Thanks Dan. So many lovely children, but you wonder what their future world will be like.
Thanks Floots. This is a special place on earth.
dan said it for me
thank you
Insightful and empathetic, Don.
Thanks.
Continue.