(iii) We Have Made Progress   Through the flashlight moon spiky leaves, palm fronds disintegrate in my hands like moving pictures projected on the mountain it looks like I'm climbing up up in slow motion until the world tilts a flash bulb cracks, we break through a century of annoying green to discover a waterslide park.   Squinting in the blue-yellow sun helpful American men repeat history in polo-shirts (one British horse gallops through a field of cotton, it's a game they play with a hammer) they are taking tickets we are handing over something (the details are sketchy) anyway it's relief, to have bare feet in flip-flops on smooth, cement paths.