Ode to the 77s of St. Lucia
You met us at the airport in t-shirts and jeans,
Now I know what “business casual” means.
To us you were the people we had to look up to,
Oh, the countless conversations all about poopoo.
You taught us all how to go about hitching,
You warned us that Peace Corps won’t like our bitching.
You showed us how to eat food that’s 60 days past old,
All you need is a knife to scrape off the mold.
Endless advice on dating a local,
Because with these men, you see, we’re the focal.
To the sssssssing and kissing you said to ignore,
We raise our brows secretly hoping for more.
You warned us about drinking too much or too little,
And if you get dengue your bones will get brittle.
We’ll never forget a sports bra to wear every day,
Because it must mold after two years, you say.
You taught us in training how to budget our money,
With your phone bills at 900 ec; Ain’t it funny?
I’ll never forget one of the guys borrowed a dress,
On that same night there he was among a Rasta empress.
There were free dinners and drinks at a hotel so far,
“Chairman’s Reserve” you ordered at the bar.
Your camping on the beach offered quite the fun,
But with just one transport, it could all be done.
The same camping trip there was a little game on the beach,
Little blocks so skinny for which we had to reach.
“Jenga” was the name of this truth and dare,
Brought upon nakedness, yet a camera was NO where!
With you we were able to have a little heart to heart,
But eventually after two years you have to part.
Your smiles and friendship will be missed indeed,
But always remember you’ve planted the seed.
You may not have changed the world in the way you thought,
But don’t you fret, your impact cannot be taught.
You made a difference that you cannot ignore,
From which now above all, people will be asking for more.
Now you’re all back in the states,
Probably finding a job or looking for mates.
But your mind I’m sure is here on this land,
Wishing you were here with us in the sand!
