Harking up with joy, filled with so much food
we beggars can’t ask for more calloo, stewed chicken
macaroni pie, we can’t finish our plates, we just lie with
our bellies bobbing to the sky, as she pulls her skirt, and dance.

Catching the departure of her grace from my selfish grip
like a butterfly, thinking I caught her yes in hereafter
the steps to her highway reigns in all the places
that lingers in me, you feel her magic magnetized…

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