Sunshine is on the house. Rum and cokes, two for one.
Holding hard, my hand strives toward lime.
Mouth of sweet water. I am faithful. I am your
favorite. I don’t spit in the food. I lick it.
Bring it to you on a platter flecked with my skin.
The ice cubes in the water each contain a carefully
placed strand of hair. I will play steel pan if it’s
your birthday. But I haven’t been trained, yet,
to be polite. Gratitude comes with the diploma.
I set the stick on fire. Move out the way.
I will first demonstrate the bending. Backward.
