Part of a continuing story

Costa Rican Sunset
.
Squinting hard at the low setting sun,
Smoky wreath from a fine Havana
Offers scant shade from the ember’s dying light.
Faint breeze stirs drapes, hears the woman’s sighs,
While he waits patiently for the next storm.
.
Running so long, he's forgotten why,
Or even from whom, he's been hiding.
There's no good reason, nor money to stop,
Perhaps more used to the thrill of the chase…
Though coast’s clear, sins maybe forgiven,
If he could remember what they were.
.
Leaning on rusted balcony, glass in hand,
Wondering what normal life might be,
No real answer, how one could exist
without hibiscus, palms, or dark rum.
Imagination fails him, as warm salt air
Dampens memories of colder times.
.
From the ports at Tampico, down Cartagena way,
He’s earned every razor’s scar she can trace
Federales, informadores, contrabandistas,
They all knew his name, but never once his face
Didn’t matter what the cargo, just the danger.
Still brings half a smile, when his thoughts wander.
.
Soft call from the bed, reluctant, he turns away.
Squalls will come far too soon, slowing business.
But tonight, at least. his colones will be well spent,
Professional attentions, just enough to stall
Another tropical depression coming on.