Jungle Joe
And out walks
Jaweh
out of the jungle
and across the mud
hair all high
in a dread-locked bee-hive
eyes all wild and
rolling
in disconnected circles
waggling his head and tongue
from side to side
tickling his third eye
for spiritual support
He sits splitting coconuts
in shorts
over the man hole in the middle of the grass
with a rusted railroad spike
He tells me while I wait in line for the outdoor shower
about the time he stood on his head for a month straight in New Zealand for quarters and looks and
good karma
Tells me about the cup that dangles from his neck chain
for drinking his own piss
“you let the first half go, catch the middle quarter - drink that, and forget the last half. Surest way to enlightenment.”
He twiddles his eyes around some more and asks to bum a cigarette
but I must disappoint him
and go to
wash
the sand
from between my toes.
©2008 Hillary Swanson. All rights reserved.