Mangier Travel Narratives

Tell us one about one
Of the places you went
Where you didn’t belong,

Maybe shouldn’t have gone.
How did the sun smell there,
Warming that kind of earth,

That smell of local soil,
That smell of the locals,
That estranged stink of you?

Tell us about the time
You stopped on a Monday
Just outside of the fort

The colonials left,
Converted to an inn
For tourists with money

To spend in. A few folks
Loitered at the crossroads,
Running little hustles.

One asked you for your name
And, in the few seconds
You stood talking to him,

Swiftly whittled a nut
With the date and your name
And the name of the fort,

Then offered to sell it
To you for a pittance,
Pittance for a tourist,

For a mere wanderer
Even, half the money
He’d make on that Monday,

Hustling by the crossroads,
Since there were no jobs left
Cleaning rooms at the inn.