On Friday Night With The Mood Up by Rethabile Masilo | Poems Rethabile Likes
On Friday Night With The Mood Up
by Rethabile Masilo
despite promises to my wife and children,
and yoga classes in China Town
once a week, I walk into the shop, my breath
rank with wine, for a pack of Camels.
I slap cash onto the counter
to the beat of music in my head,
pick up the goods and the change,
and let myself back into my world again,
the sound of the city in the air. I don't care
that the tobacconist's hoary wife holds
my hundred up against the light, or that
this place has left, among us who come here
for work or love from different countries,
a trace of bile in the mouth. I care
that the blood we were promised has not come,
fire raining on our heads. The end
of traffic from there to here, children
stuck between two worlds. That is the true
wonder of this place. And as I roll my hips
in stride toward the shebeen, I know
that it's what my god must also care about.
and yoga classes in China Town
once a week, I walk into the shop, my breath
rank with wine, for a pack of Camels.
I slap cash onto the counter
to the beat of music in my head,
pick up the goods and the change,
and let myself back into my world again,
the sound of the city in the air. I don't care
that the tobacconist's hoary wife holds
my hundred up against the light, or that
this place has left, among us who come here
for work or love from different countries,
a trace of bile in the mouth. I care
that the blood we were promised has not come,
fire raining on our heads. The end
of traffic from there to here, children
stuck between two worlds. That is the true
wonder of this place. And as I roll my hips
in stride toward the shebeen, I know
that it's what my god must also care about.
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