Bananas in Birmingham

I didn’t come on a banana boat you know.
It was on a plane.
There was a bunch of us.
Giggling, all perked up,
Ready for adventure.
The doors opened to a grey dawn.
And we shivered all at once.

Purpose of visit?

Tourist.
My aunt, you know.
She got some kind of illness. That’s why she’s no’ here.
She’ll be back on her feet in no time.
And I’ll look after her.
A month? Two?
No more.
It’s this weather you see.
She used to the sun.
The warm.
It’s this grey light.
I got sunshine from home with me.
Under my skin.
Wanna see?

Cashed the return ticket on the way out.
I got my sunshine with me.
Back home could wait.

I was green then.
Envy, for one thing.
But green of fresh grass, too.
Oh yeah.
Grass, too.
But yellow beckoned.
Like sunshine.
Like belly.
Like gold.
Sunshine back home.
All my fears there, too.
And gold.
Right here.
Right now.
But the gold.
You know the damp old cold gold?
It got under my skin.
And I got cold feet.
And I looked up one of the bunch.
My friend said,
You know there is good living here.
And glitter gold, too.
It’s the accent you know.
Kills them dead.
Say something in French.
Whisper it soft.

bananes
bananes à crème

That’s never French.
Is it?
Hunh?

I’m in a fish bowl.
Between a peach and a passion fruit.
Black and bruised
Black and bruised and rotten to the core.
No going back now.
No refunds
Once the rot sets in.
And bruises all the way.

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