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Sunday Sauce: Baranquilla














By: Michael Barone


Every time I imagine our “differences,”

“Ignorance” is

No longer my excuse.

My blissful truth reduces abuse

That I have only recently discovered.


I won’t forget.

I won’t forget the hardworking, unmaterialistic missionaries.


I see the lard now.

Life is not so hard now.

I appreciate a deck of cards now.


Many make marking magnificence meaningful.

Beauty believes because being becomes beautiful.


Everything exotic,

Everything enticing,

Everything erotic,

Everything exploring,

Encountering everything.


Slapping the strings,


Picturing stings,

However, the joy that it brings

Rings as I sing for the sake of



How the eye contact fed,

In one small house

Filled with twelve heads,

Twenty-four open arms,

And only two beds.


The military lined up every hundred feet for a mile, yet somehow

All twelve still stayed dressed with a smile.


I won’t forget.

I won’t forget.

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