The Islander

I don’t know the city, I only know the town

I am exotic, for my skin is brown

I know the ocean, I count the stars

I don’t believe in math or Mars

I eat fresh, I eat ready

I run long, I swim steady

I miss jokes, I skip words

I fight boars, I feed birds

I want money, I want alms

I want hugs, I want palms

I lick lemons, I pop peas

I climb bush with vigor and ease

The islander is wild, the islander is free

The islander is poor, the islander wants glee

The islander laughs and laughs because

The city folk don’t understand what the islander does.