Friday, June 04, 2010

step off the plane into wet blanket slap 100 degrees 98% humidity you remember this from years before tho the air is thick with stench diesel charcoal fires burning plastic at least no corpse smell it’s been too long in the heat bodies are bones now buried in the mountains of rubble once a city capitol building leaning crazily like melting ice cream cones however you press into the airport swirl with sweat slicking your feet your hands saltsting in your eyes obscuring the agitated crowd of Haitian men jostling for attention your attention carry your bags for a few US dollars your passport is under your shirt your money belt buried in your backpack you can’t breathe Creole rushing past you so many faces and eyes you came to offer what exactly the crowd is a living moving animal swaying in the heat you can feel the desperation the empty bellies and the crush made of grief anger pride and something feral

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