I’m going to start in a cliché fashion
the night was cool and the music was
the field was filled with island people
of all shades and they swayed their hips,
bobbed their heads,
They gave their blessings para la isla
and was in a feel-good harmony as their
babies ran in circles.
Lovers danced closely because
kompa ran through their bones and bachata
shook their earth
it didn’t matter which island they were from,
they shared rhythm and rhyme and, frankly,
that was enough to fill space.