~ Dark-skinned Girls (an abstract) ~

In this coffee shop
the staff speaks
no English

just the way I like
things
to be

Frees me
to wander
the halls
of my head
as I tap
my fingernails
to their giggly vocals

Grey shirted
these dark-skinned girls
whose patois is a
rapid beat
  (so fast I can’t tell which island)
the
rapid beat
of a hummingbird's wings
Laughter takes flight
to mix with clipped words
and all of it
goes
over
my head

save the music

Grey shirted
these dark-skinned girls
with their Christmas light
eyes
and Birthday Party grins
Braids peek
from under paper hats
One has a dimple
another, a sliver-moon
scar on her chin

But it is the tiniest one
la petite fille
who fills my cup
to the brim

Stick-thin, stirrer-thin
this child
whose smile
is ten thousand smiles
and drum beats
and white sands
and sea shells
and 
 
if I saw
under that shirt
that grey striped shirt
would I
be able to count
her ribs

I would
I know it
and this
pains me

I hand her my two dollars
infused
with a prayer
that here
she will finally
drink her fill

Fill up, plump up

like the cousins
and sisters
that came first.

She slides my cup
across the counter
breaking the spell

Oceans abate
the sun sets
sidewalks resurface

and the traffic cop's whistle
calls me home.


© 2004