Sweet Potato taken by hand, hot to the touch
Never tasted so sweet
The white trucks sit, engines running, no drivers in side, no cargo in sight
No rush, no hassle
Sun really just risen on this Saturday
Wrapped ladies pluck green leaves from stalks
Bundled roots lying ready on the grey metal plate
And the old men sit, suits pressed and straight
Sticks, pipes, glasses and grey hair,
Wearing their time well
The Juba road yields a steady trickle of traffic and the lazy flies do what flies do
The toddler slices another papal in half and slides it my way across the plastic table
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