what in the world does Mei Ling of the noodle

stall

with the yellow clapboards

do to her fine slippery noodles

what enchantment does she whisper

through the wide gap in her front teeth

over that katha of stir fry

what spice dust does she sprinkle

with her back to me

on my toes 

craning my nosy neck

Mei Ling whirling around and presenting me

with a steaming bowl of her Curry Mee

what spells are intertwined in these turmeric flavoured strands

that bewitch me to visit Mei Ling's hut every night....

if i have a glorious joint smouldering

between my fingers

if i wine and gyrate

between the smoke twirls

and touch myself

and SCREAM at hands trying to encircle my waist

to FUCK OFF

if i want to feel this riddim with myself

if i want to throw my long long dreads

at the night sky

and feel them beat my back

like my ancestors' 

if i feel this foggy muzik twining my limbs anew

and my soul goin' in-out of 

me

if my moist lips are parted

to embrace my sweet spliff 

if my body is pulsating

from the love of my hands

even IF i know i am bad lucky

this is my heven....