Kitchen Street

I am sitting right next to it, and I am absorbing all of it, the fire is in the dish and the smell is keeping me fit.I have not eaten for many days and I have not had a proper shower for more than a year, I have been t with cold bath in a tiny basin without soap to sooth my body.You can never tell where life will lead you when friends and love ones have decieved you.You just have to carry on until you find someone loving and kind to hold your hand. My heart is still intact but my body is paying the penality and it can hardly fit my clothes.The heat is all over my back and courage is rising under my frock.I wonder how long I can bear this empty stomach that is pumping a strange feeling all over my body.Lets take a walk down kitchen street and you will feel my heart beat. Let`s take a walk down kitchen street and lean against the blanket dream. Think tanks, Jerk, pan, cart man, iron pots and everything that is concrete is running up and down on kitchen street. White tents, blue tents, green tents yellow tents and all form of tents lined out Kitchen street.The push cart man is standing by with heavens reaching the sky.He is washing the jerk pan and banging it with his hands.You can see the fire burning in the pan and the smoke spilling all over the land, well dressed women gather around looking at me with a frown. The street is not neat and Friday evening crowd is walking on its feet.I see the smoke going out of the tents with a sweet aroma that is reaching towards heaven, the men has brought the kitchen into the street forcing the women at home to compete.The early morning shift,the afternoon shift, and the evening shift all gather around putting different types of food in the dish.The Friday evening crowd gather around mumbling words without sounds, it would be cheaper if they eat at home but the are just supporting a cause in the busy town.Smoke is fuming in the air and many people have some somethings to fear, the jerk pan fill up the corner creating much disorder.The entire street is closed off and the pots ar emerging from nowhere, some pots are boiling slow and others are standing in a row, the pork smell is circulating in air irritating the nose of religious leaters, and the burnt chicken wings with sauce hanging solelmly on the cross. I dont`t feel hungar and I don`t feel sorrow my spirit has become imuned to it but my body is paying the price for it. Men with long spoon serving soup, men in the kitchen stirring up gigantic pots of rice and pease.The young people walking around tearing crispy jerk chicken in their jaw corner.On the other side of the street, another group gather around the jerk pan while the Jerk man chop the pork and fill it sause and wrap it in foil paper.The crowd suddenly descend on kitchen street stuffing their hungry gut with everything that they could eat.The men`s kitchen is in the street and the women are having a feast.Empty your stomach and come, let us go to kitchen street before they pull down the tents.