Time Sails in Boy days
of spiralling bicycle wheels
was an all too familiar chime.
At optimum speed the wind dallied
through our finger tips,
and heads tilted back to gander the evening sky.
The warmth of the sun
threaded the ocean of pigmentation in our skin
as we glided through pretentious streets.
We were just boys but we knew,
the onyx eyed gossip of idle minds,
filled the air, balanced only
with Pam’s batter.
We can almost
taste the warm cinnamon, sugar and
soft breaded texture of Miss Pam’s buns
melt in our mouths as we zoomed by,
that smell lingered in our blanched shirts.
That starving satisfaction, however,
was met with the cheesy release of macaroni pie
soaked in that brown delicious stewed chicken,
that perfected taste buds like Rudder’s ‘Madness’,
it was a salient Caribbean pleasure.
Alas the lush green haven,
time to control and brake
to again mark the road with the friction of our presence.
We buried our feet
among the blades of green and
panted with the excitement of another summer’s day.