The Island

Like unfinished hems

The threads of canopy trees hang

and line the pathway above my head

We walk in silence

I try sour sap berries along the way

I gather medicinal leaves to make a sedative tea

Another fruit, like a potato is supposed to cure sixty-five ailments

Three stray and hungry cats meow for food

A deserted restaurant

A vacant beach

When we get into the water

We come together

We walk in silence back through the path with hanging
threads that stop before they reach the ground

And the potato fruit we cannot reach to take home

The sour sap berries are supposed to taste like lemonade,
but they have seeds and are bitter

Nosium and mosquito bites make mini-constellations on my
left leg

The cats grow irritable

A tourist throws a Pepsi can outside the local taxi driving by

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