We sat on old wooden chairs in the back of the dilapidated house,
smoking recently rolled marijuana spliffs, my Jamaican friend's brother,
two men, a retiree school administrator and a working ALCOA employee,
a union representative delegate somewhere in the alum plant...
Darkness came on, were we drinking over proof rum, most likely not,
the conversation meandering and long, about unionization's history...
time passed unnoticed comfortably seemed endlessly yet important;
when I stood up I had to reevaluate my seating spot carefully...
How long we spoke I'll not know but it was good and meaningful
trite words probably, truthful, honestly coming intimately through.
Two men from different cultures, skin colours black and white...
fire flickering, I saw his facial skeletal bone structure that night.
12th January, 2007
Author: Roy Schoenberg - Bay Shore, New York.