Stop Sign

Youngsters lollygagging in the street

Playing hopscotch

Tossing marbles

With the flick of my

Bony thumb

Not even a stop sign

On my Haitian island

“Car!”

Jean-Baptiste’s mother  shrieked

With a smile

Sandals flip-flopping randomly

To skid over past death

To life

All of us stopping past the

Dusty road left by

The speeding white pickup

Not even a stop sign

On my Haitian island

90 degrees out

Nothin’ but tank tops

From gambling to yoyos

No officiers tellin’ us nos

Tires skidding on the dusty road

Not even a stop sign

On my Haitian island

Corrupt government

Watch out for your own kin

No need for blood

For a perfect family

It doesn’t matter how you made it

As long as you got there

We abhor rules

But a joke here and

Slingshot there

Fun to all is necessary

Not even a stop sign

On my Haitian island