them juicy beings

After reading Mr John Agard's English Girl Eats Her First Mango, thanks to some maneuvering/stalking on William's Blog, it has dawned on me that I will try to actually commence a series of those around me eating mangoes. Ideally I would love this to be a mixture real and staged moments, and have it shown in a sort of installation. Walking with my mother this evening, we passed about 100 trees in less than a two mile trek, she told me stories of her favorite tree and how she could never really get access to it as the owner was covetous when she was a child. Today the yellow distracted me, a fresh "Sophie" dropped as i was going to pick some Guyanese Cherries, it mocked me as i picked it up and carried it for my father. He looked at me as i handed it to him and asked me how many more I had for him.

John Agard's English Girl Eats Her First Mango

(a kind of love poem)

If I did tell she

hold this gold

of sundizzy

tonguelicking juicy

mouthwater flow

ripe with love

from the tropics

she woulda tell me

trust you to be

melodramatic

so I just say

taste this mango

and I watch she hold

the smooth cheeks

of the mango

blushing yellow

and a glow

rush to she own cheeks

and she ask me

what do I know

just bite into it?

and I was tempted

to tell she

why not be a devil

and eat of the skin

of the original sin

but she woulda tell me

trust you to be

mysterious

so I would just say

it’s up to you

if you want to peel it

and I watch she feels it

as something precious

then she smile and say

looks delicious

and I tell she

don’t waste sweet words

when she sweetness

in your hand

just bite it man

peel it with the teeth

that God gave you

or better yet

do like me mother

used to do

and squeeze

till the flesh

turns syrup

nibble a hole

then suck the gold

like bubby

in child mouth

squeeze and tease out

every drop of spice

sounds nice

me friend tell me

snd I remind she that ain’t

apple core

so don’t forget

the seed

suck that too

the sweetest part

the juice does run

down to your heart

man if you see

the English rose

she face was bliss

down to the pink

of she toes

and when she finish

she smile

and turn to me

lend me your hanky

my fingers are all sticky

with mango juice

and I had to tell she

what hanky

you talking about

you don’t know

when you eat mango

you hanky

is you tongue

man just lick

your finger

you call that

culture

like your finger

you call that

culture

unless you prefer

to call it

colonization

in reverse