snippets of gossip about Carnival
and the Calypso King.  Still no one talks
to Natty man while he's there--they're full
of words once he's gone, about his walk,

the ganja store, how he speaks.  Only once
did they unite, support him there.  His girl
came, yelling about babies and police.
They rose as one in that place for men, circled
around until she looked--turned--walked away
head down.  Just then, Rasta wasn't so strange.