B.W.I.
by John Updike
Under a priceless sun,
Shanties and guava.
Beside an emerald sea,
Coral and lava.
On the white dirt road,
A blind man tapping.
On dark Edwardian sofas,
White men napping.
In half-caste twilight, heartfelt
Songs to Jesus.
Across the arid land,
Ocean breezes.
The sibilance of sadness
Never ceases.
The empty cistern.
The broken Victrola.
The rusted praise of
Coca-Cola.
Old yellow tablecloths,
And tea, and hairy
Goats, and airmail
Stationery.
Copies of Punch and Ebony.
Few flowers.
Just the many-petalled sun above
The endless hours.
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