JC Inman #2 Box

Via Singapore, by way of Sydney,

Forty five days by van, boat, van,

The box is a time capsule from almost-today,

Things needed a month ago.

Ano Ito? My cousin-in-law

Shares a quizzical look

But not a language.

He points to the pot

Assumptions and mistakes.

Aussie Adobo.

Dark as Satan’s halo

The stain of home

Sticks to the spoon.

Vegemite.

Ten year old eyebrows waggle

How to describe its taste

Acquired, like knowledge, through trial and error,

The only thing from Down Under that is not oversold

Talked up,

Salty like the cotton in farmers armpits,

Rich as the country by comparison

And like stoney asphalt, the soles of feet and the summer sun,

Best in small quantities til you can hack it.

Heaven must smell like gum leaves and Vegemite toast

Like a monthly cheque

90% is so quickly spent

And the last skerrick

Painstaking misered

Avoiding the flashing knifetip

S p r e a d  t h i n.

Count those coins now -

Savour it -

The next box is forty five days away