“The boy gives back the mango…”

by Valérie Rouzeau

The boy gives back the mango at the till too dear
He hasn’t got enough to pay for it no way
He didn’t sweat enough his cash-flow has run dry
His euros hours of work are not enough he hasn’t won
The jackpot yet his eyes are black his eyebrows frown
With worry skin like bronze from relishing the sun
The mango’s suddenly the weight of all his pains
On the little scales for fruit and vegetables
And it still smells of mango from Peru Brazil
That oily yellow resin and brown turpentine
The best ones come from Mali which you never find
In France where this boy works and now
Nothing he leaves that’s it the way he came
No wherewithal you’re welcome insufficient coin