One fifty cent grapefruit
Only one, purchased from a indigenous who picked it that day
Appleton rum, also local, but caged in a history of bondage and servitude
Plastic grocery bag my where my
Feet chill in peelings while
Rubies soak.
I sip these gems they
Drip into me
Far enough down to call my bluff.
This is poor woman’s excuse for spa
