All the Costa Rican locals
Flip their thumbs and pinkies wide,
Smiling "Pura Vida!" at you
While you bask in tropic sun.
In the tree canopy above
Our rum and pineapple-graced
Infinity swimming pool,
Three-toed sloths would chew all day, dazedly,
On Cecropia leaves
Known to alleviate depression,
While we bob and loll on a throne of liquid water
Overlooking the Pacific.
Would it change these Tico attitudes
To cross north of forty latitudes
And see this "Pure Life" frozen still,
Bottled up so brazenly?
Either that's what shocks me,
Or else my brittle mustache shivering
In minus twenty degree windchill.
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