From 'The Double' Vi Poem by Morgan Michaels

From 'The Double' Vi



'I told you, my mom brought me here. Long ago'.
'She likes butterflies'?
'I guess. Otherwise, why would she bring me.'?
Langley couldn't answer.
'Are you and your mother close'?
'I am an only child'.
'Really'!
'Si'.
They walked back to the car without talking. There were no butterflies in the parking lot.

Twenty minutes on they were sitting on the porch of a small casa that had become a cafe. Vines covered a wooden skeleton of a roof. The house was simple but neat. A plate of cold cod arrived and the two ate hungrily.

The propriatress, appeared at table side.
'Anything to drink', she asked, in a strange Spanish Langley could barely understand.
'Perdon'? , he said.
The lady repeated the question.
'I'll have iced tea', said Langley.
'Same', said Miggi, slowly.
Langley was content.
'Mmm. Sweet plantain', he said, biting into one.
The morsel of plantain steamed on the end of his fork.
Miggi made a face.
'What; s wrong'? asked Langley, sensing his distaste'.
'I was raised on them', replied Migi, 'we practically lived on them. They're cheap'.
'They're tasty'.
'They're filling.
'Of course', agreed Langley, cautiously.
Then Miggi told him a bit of family history, between mouthfuls of cold cod. Before he was born, his family used to be prosperous. Not rich, mind you, but... middle class. The way you get by working hard and hanging in. His grandfather...

Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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