It was more or less
A barn with a thatched roof
And spindly steel supports
That ran from one end of the Nassau
Street to some lesser thoroughfare out back

I swore I could hear the chickens cackling
In the afternoon, but looking past
The holes in the matting
I saw the welcome behemoth
Of the cruise ship floating
In garbage you never see
In the brochures.

The ladies were looking at hats, while
Bob and I strolled down the middle aisle;
Three women squatted there like elephants,
Large and immovable, baying at the dust
And mud and conversing oblivious
To this latest horde of alabaster invaders
From the sunless north

The biggest one with the protruding eyes
Was holding serve. The other two flicked
At gnats, but never let their gaze dip anywhere
But to the largest woman’s cracked
And wormy lips.
“She done me wrong,” she said, her forehead
Wrinkling like a parlor rug, “And t’ree day later,
She got sick.”

I looked at Bob and we both lost
Our desire to try on Panamas
At about the same moment

Finding the ladies
We steered them out into
The liquid sunshine of
A Bahamas afternoon.
In the gauzy mist at the dock
We could stare out at mythical Atlantis
And wonder why we’d been roped
Into taking a tour of Nassau with
A peripatetic guide named Thaddeus.

Bob and I said nothing of the three
Women. The ladies stopped on the dock
To see the native girls weaving corn rows
In the blond tresses of little girls from Paramus.

Asked if we were boarding, we both said no.
There was a little dive with a narrow staircase
Back down the street that looked appealing
In a throw all caution to the winds way
For two Yankees whose idea of
Breathtaking adventure
Was riding the log flume at Six Flags

Still, like the gallants we were
We escorted the ladies to the ship
As if we were bringing debutantes
Home from the ball. We waved at them as they
Climbed the gangplank, then turned
And walked into the dusky afternoon

The bar was on the second floor facing the
Dock. Big fans whooshed overhead
And the wood was dark and wet
When we set our money down.
The young bartender had an accent rich and nutty
As a Christmas brownie, and was hip with the
Yankee lingo. Well, of course, he’d been in the States:
His cousin owned a deli on New Lots Avenue

We were bold in asking for a local beer
And the toothsome barkeep smiled.
“Me got Kalik Gold,” he said. “It’ll make you boys
Buzz ‘til you get back to Miami.”

It did, too, and we were on our second
And buying a third when I chanced to ask
What exactly that long barn building
Across the street was anyway.

And Jimmy the barkeep leaned over the wood
And said, “you wan’ stay outta de marketplace, mon.
Das where the crazy ladies live.”

And I looked at Bob and looked at the beer
And wondered how Jimmy knew all this
While ordering another round.
And Bob, bald as a bowling ball,
Clinked two empty beer bottles
Together and said,
“When we get back to the ship
I’m going to get my hair corn rowed.”

And then we screamed and cackled
‘Til we cried
Ten minutes or more
And for that time we joined the three women
In the market place

In a manner of speaking.

04/27/2011

Author's Note: Thanks, Linda, for pointing out the nit...:)

Posted on 04/27/2011
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