That day when I met the Eskimos
they were sitting by an ice cube house
On the hot Caribbean Island of Brim
I was about ten
The Tourism Board parade them like cattle on an auction block
Somehow, this Trinidadian floosy remind me of Eskimo Nate
All eyes in the shop were on her hips
those
bewitching and enticing  moves

As she walked away,

Her long dread locks swing from side to side
I knew it wasn’t black pride
who was she trying to impress?
There wasn’t  a man insight

just a beauty shop full of high volume of estrogens
and mixtures of hair bleach and toxic fumes
so difficult to consumes

The hairstylist just knew how to work it
with her deep orange outfit,
her usually looking pouty lip;
would make a Godfearing woman turn tricks

The **** bowlegged female *****
Never seem to quit.
She remind me of a younger me
a very long time ago looking for a mate
stylish, feminine young thing
But look where that got me
An unfriendly divorce and years full of hate

The youth of today will carry on the old Madame tradition
If you got it flaunts it.
Make the cowboys want it.

this is not poem
or a song
or a poem slash song
it's not about me
or you
or about right
or wrong
it's not about family
or about friends
or the boy slash girl
next door
who has the locker
parallel to our/yours
just down the corridor

this is not a poem
about revenge
or
love
or
***
it's not about
invoking jealousy
or advertising
who falls between
your legs next

No longing to be
just a cheap floosy
No hoping to
incapacitate
with an ill thought hex
Here you'll find
indifference
sitting pretty
like mismatched pearls
around an unguarded neck

Add a poem?
I do believe I will
make it feel like
someone/something/anything?
Even better still!