Puerto Rican Mangoes are the Best

Mango Ogres

Carefully cutting away the tangy covering
of my grocery store mango
I yearned for
the superior succulence of fruit on the island, and
remembered
their doubled over laughter and the story, of the mango,
I heard while eavesdropping.

Listening to them laugh hilariously about
holding the mango while it dripped slime from tight hands
was so funny.
Kneading the pulp beneath its rosy green leather
they sucked
and slurped
soft bright lava from a subordinate planet.

the gushing density of golden rivers
flowed down between fingers,
fell to the auto bus floor,
mingled with the dirt, chickens and children.
They devoured it with increasing enthusiasm.
It oozed rivulets down their face and neck.
Sunset stains spread down pressed white shirts.
Gooiness plopped like frogs on shiny black shoes.
They dripped, odorous with sweet gore,
and they called themselves mango ogres.