a feast of Cassava

there is a sweaty girl in the equator

who sits in the fields of her farm, brewing eyes watching the cassava grow

she sits in the refreshing heat, a heat that caresses her cheeks and plagues her mind

she slices a runt piece, revealing the milky white base

the sweaty girl of 12 rubs her eyes, an unexpected surprise 

the milky white spreads, unfurling like a fluffy blanket

she rolls around in joy, forgetting about the soft heat, the familiar sting

oh, Cassava, she does not know

that beautiful burn you crave, the world’s salty tears solidified into white bullets

the sweaty girl of 17 misses her sun, the blazing heart of her farm

bare the blizzard, breathe in that refreshing cool air

that stolen, plagued air

bitter eyes watch the cassava strip

a cool bear sits at the pole

she sits in the plains of her home, a milky white expanse

she bathes in the sun one day, enjoying the silky caress 

it embraces her form, stripping away her fluffy skin

you do not need this anymore, i tell her, 

i shall give it to the sweaty girl in the equator 

her tears melt into pools of oil

sizzling my platter of fresh steak

sweat, sweat, sweat away your sorrows, dear bear

for we do not care, we are fair

fair in our lack of care

why do you hate me? caring for you will not fatten my pockets

caring for you shall not cause me

the luxury of these sweet, sweet factories, taunting your fading face 

breathe it in, inhale the drunkening heat 

i steal away your breath, i know, but think of me

think of the Cassava that i will eat, the milky white that spreads in my palms

the spicy and bland, the coldest and warmest Cassava

oh sweaty girl of 12, bask in that cold, for your home is not the sweat that beads

but the snow that feeds

cry, cry, cry

your tears shall not defeat, for i cannot see

what is not truly seen.