show me just enough.
Can't sun my tits there, but Brazil it's ok,
because my blood's gone cold and I will forgive anything if I can be warm again.
I savor my eggplant tonight, soon to be aipim, guava and pinhãos.
I read about traveler's diarrhea, which I know well, but have always just called it plain ol' diarrhea.
A teacher once told me she didn't poop all the way through some spiritual trek across Nepal.
Soul sausage is the actual Chinese medicinal translation.
Oh thrill me Brazil!
Rip the hair right out of my soul crotch
follicles and all.
Show me a shoulder, a brown one, my own
blending in with sands and root vegetable skins,
parts puffy and crinkly to the touch
by the end.