the Jamaican Angel who was made flesh as a clerk at K-Mart

I came to you with a pair of jeans, windshield-wiper fluid and a baby-helmet.

You looked at me and mumbled,

“Cash or credit,”

The gorgeous black ropes of your hair Hung like vines,

And I wanted to tell you that you that you looked like some Caribbean mermaid-mythology come to life,

A Heavenly creature that sailors would go on adventures and risk their lives Just to find the fabled Isle where you live

But instead I looked down and swiped a debit card

and I left K-Mart.