Disillusion

Those enchanting sunsets
at the Playa,
where nature's palette
is beyond comparison.
I drink in the colors,
lying down
on the lukewarm sand.
Most of the sun worshipers
already left the beach.
The little picturesque
restaurants at the Boulevard
should be overcrowded
with hungry tourists by now.
One of the locals, a friendly boy
about eighteen years old,
approaches me, chatting
about the rippling waves
how much he loves windsurfing.
I praise the immaculate
snow white beach,
the stunning beautiful
environment, the friendly people
here in this small fishers village.
He chuckles a little,
tells me he has to show me something,
a deep secret.
Hesitant but also curious
I follow him
to the other side of the beach.
A high sand dune
marks the border
surrounded by barb wire.
He starts to climb the dune
while I struggle right behind him.
Just before we reach
the crest of the dune,
he warns me not to get startled
about the view.
With a rabid curiosity,
I look ...
right into a huge
stinking garbage dump.
Another illusion, gone.