Samba, Patience

Samba,

On this beach,
sand in a shaken gourd will sing
its memory of the sea
Chinga, chinga, chinga, chinga

There is the put, put, put
of the two stroke motor
of the fishing boat as
it struggles into the harbor

The ting, ting, ting of
the lids covering two kettles
one of boiling rice
one of simmering beans

Can this be Paradise?
I sip a warm Pepsi
on a day that is hotter
than an iron skillet
full of frying plantains

In this part of the world
I speak my language funny
so strangers and
we’re all strange here
can’t understand me
as if I have a mouth full
Of caramel candy and shellfish,
scallops maybe

I nearly sneeze warm Pepsi when
that young woman floats by
wearing only string and three
triangles made from the
skin of an anaconda
and a necklace of gold
from a madman’s jungle

The fishermen whistle as
she saunters by
they have no nets that can catch her
she leaves no footprints
on the hot, white sand
I have to satisfy my hunger
with plantains, Pepsi, beans, and rice

Patience

It is the big thick book
you bring while you wait
to see a doctor or
any frickin’ one
EXCEPT the rent-a-cop
in the Emergency Room
don’t tell me to take it
one day at a time

It is the place that I run from to
scream drunk with rage
at the son who won’t take
his seizure medication
or the sister who insists
on cleaning the kitchen
instead of resting after chemo
don’t tell me to
let go and let God

It is that scarce resource that
I never had an abundance of
and now as the number of my
days grows smaller,
and shackles of my sufferings
are grow heaver and longer
It is what I need the most
because you people--

don’t tell me easy does it
It’s never Easy
and I am running out
of time

Capitano Tedeschi

30

copyright 2009 Jamie Jacks