Nafeaffaa Ipolpo Aka Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

I never thought of asking her when will she marry me
until she asked me when will I marry her. Both mother
and daughter sit on the green grass under the blue
magenta shade of a lush avocado tree.

In the background, against a cerulean blue sky, two
profiled mountains chaperon us. The larger, ultra marine
mountain, faces me on my left. It is silhouetted right
at the back of a row of low bushes with

more leafy trees right behind them. The more I look at
the Tahitian wahine the more I desire exotic places
and the more I long to taste her unfamiliar fruits, the more
my ample fig leaf sways under an imaginary breeze.

For extended moments I think of leaving my dull city life
and join that exotic-skinned wahine despite that across
her chest a watermark protecting her, distracts my gaze.
I hope Paul doesn't mind.