beauty and language barriers..
My daughter, understanding Spanish,
watches a documentary I can’t understand.
A nervous woman with a sweet smile
speaks laughingly to a white shirted fat man
with a microphone, his free arm draped around her,
a friendly if unseasonably warm stole.
People are chopping apart coconuts with machetes,
neatly extracting chunks of solid white meat.
The laughing woman walks away from the camera
in slow motion, in her escape suddenly sensuous,
her amply swaying skirt followed by advertisements
for American Airlines (R),
10–10-something-something long distance,
and a man with speech like machine gun fire
broadcasts fluttering money like confetti in the air.
Then there is a game show.
One contestant’s shirt is denim,
the other’s is sheer, darkly
showing her brassiere
to most excellent advantage.
Every once in a while
there’s a word close enough
to English or French for me to catch,
but not enough to spoil things.
~ Wry Welwood
late 20th century.