He is munching on nuts,
Utilising the muscles he has.
He has wonderful eyes,
Wide set and is,
Now eating a banana with a plastic spoon.
We both have motioned for a waiter.
He is masticating on a blob of Almond paste that he,
Has scooped from the glass jar in the,
Middle of the table, by the ash tray
With his index finger,
Nibbling like a squirrel,
And there is something askew,
As he rushes,
To the aid of a woman carrying,
Four heavy bags.
He leaves his own where it is,
I wonder if he’s on drugs, or
Just a tourist,
High on Africa,
A white man free to do as he pleases.
I wonder why the other white man on the table next to ours,
First asked him to mind his bags,
Whilst he used the toilet,
And never came back.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it,
I am a black man preparing to fly, and
Have been informed about bags,
Suddenly left, unattended.
♦photo – Boeing♦
evocative short poetry – words move