Tou jou

Hopping in the back of a crowded pick up truck.
Wedging myself between two begrudging, stone thighs.
Holding the bound up stack of news papers and bananas for an older woman as she too
clambers into the bed, though I think the person before me took the last arguable 'plas'

Walking through patchy strips of lights and nightlife.

Rubble and grime.

Listening to the bass notes kick and the packs of dogs skirmish.
Listening to the jump rope games of little girls.
Hands clapping. Exhaling satisfaction. Giddy into the night.

Listening to the beers crack open and swish down sandy throats.
Dirty fingernails.
Red clay stained ankles.

Listening to the dominoes slam and the soccer game blare, all fuzzy like.

This is Haiti.

Don't walk in the dark, he says to me.

There's thieves over there.

Here, walk this way.
Always walk in the light.