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I remember the land of drums I was born bedded beneath great hanging nets; the sound of the conch and the horn. My blue suitcase filled with stuff, the red tricycle and pedal car that made me race and made me puff. I remember the hounds of revolution nightly howl on the streets of my island home. Now I reign afar in the land of my exile as might a king given up his throne I remember my first day of school so bleak, a gingerbread house on Picton Street where I first kissed a sweetheart cheek. Hearken tales of men in Sherwood, Nelly Stone in her rocking chair reading The Adventures of Robin Hood. The loud guttural yard turkeys’ gobble and flap, and kids singing their songs of joy. I remember the year, the girl, the songs in all its virtue when I was a boy I remember the front yard we would play and the annex rooms we called home watching The Riki Tiki Show at 17 Gray. Waving at the Queen’s royal parade down on Saint Clair Avenue in the crowds following her motorcade. I remember huddled around the old valve radio, long siestas in the hot afternoon till late beneath a corner streetlight halo raving drunk slumped Blue Moon I remember sticky chewy peanut brittle with my cold Nestle chocolate milk while gorging my tummy little by little. Behold down-de-islands dashing in a pirogue out on Staubles Bay - the sea spray across the bow crashing. Watching as darkness fell on high moon and tide shining on bay and jetty so bright, when as young eyes grew weary I would rest at peace all through the night I remember all dressed for Sunday School and afternoons at the Country Club splashing around in the swimming pool. And at sea playing captain and sailor on board a ship Panama bound in my cabin with my toy boat and trailer. I remember the ports and voyage of no return into the yonder crossing the equator, when old Neptune rose from the undersea to bless our ship and navigate her Written: September 1990
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