Smoke is in the air.
I smell it well before
It clouds my vision.
Turning around isn't an option,
As my GPS insists I stay straight.
Steering me towards the smoke.
Radiator leaks, a/c shrieks...
Windows down, I try not to inhale.
Futile as the clouds thicken,
Burning my lungs;
Lenses bloodshot with irritation.
I glance to the right,
Catching a sight of the flames.
Turn to the left more of the same.
Twice a year, the sugar is reaped...
Then the fields burn.
Rotating crops, the sugar never stops,
Year round it grows- swapping spots.
Controlled fire takes
Over half this town's land.
Chokes us all out.
Next the 'copters will swoop in low,
Spraying 'ferrilizer' and incesticide.
Allergies flare and none ever seem to care.
Few miles down yonder,
You'll find the salt mines.
Home of tobasco...
Beautiful island of Avery.
A girl that never ages-
Walks the roads in a yellow dress.
Umbrella in hand,
She lives in a land where salt reigns.
Reaping sugar, mining salt..
Home of tobasco...
Sugar n spice,
Sprinkle some salt
And what have we got?
Tastes a lot like potholes and poverty.
Mosquito muggy with voodoo roots...
Creole Haitian mixed with
British exiled population.
Land of loose cannon crazy.
Drunk n hazy with a dialect.. I
I can't quite catch.
Snappy turtles and gators.
Seventy pound fish with whiskers
Inhabit Swampy waters.
Along with Garfish that got bite,
Creatures of this realm...surreal.
This space which I love to hate.
The place of sugar n' spice
Where salt pours
and folklores run rampant.
Cemeteries, concrete tombs above ground,
Loud; the dead are placed and
Haphazardly grouped all over Town.
Today though half of it burns down
And we inhale the cost-
The land that never sees the frost.
Rotating crops tilling the soil with poison.
This place I hate to love,
As I die trying to leave.


© fire_tamed_dame