Innisfail
We buy rum in a brown bag, walk to the banana fields which are silent and night time. There is a dog, but he is too concerned with things which concern dogs in hot climates; his sweat, the insects, fireflies with wings like drunken bats. There are stars, so we place bets on them; play bluff, exchange constellations, look serious into the long night. We drink. The rum is like running through a field of striped candy canes, hand in hand with a ruby haired Egyptian. We drink it lying in the earth under the great wallowing bananas.
I raise him; three sisters and a Great Bear.
He, confident; the Milky Way.
By the time we get home, the van is wheezing gasoline tears into the sky of our spoils.