In the land of ackee and saltfish
the light is brighter,
the mountains hillier.
The shades of green
stretch to purple (if you close your eyes)
And the route taxi
runs out of gas
“pon di road”.
Cuss him out, the driver,
while he runs after you
for his money.
Run for the hills
to fall asleep with the crickets.
Dream about water,
that it flows from the pipe.
That you can bathe with five buckets,
or reach the river in time,
before the hills tire you out.
Hush now. You’re still “pon di road”.
It is dark.
The taxi driver just sent someone
riding a bike
for gas.
The bike has wheels
that light up in the dark,
just like the kitibu.
They dance all night.
They are their own moonshine.
Hours later, when you reach home,
finally,
you know what you will dream:
About chicken back.
And rice.
~ Ina Vandebroek (7/18/14)
