The world after babel

I got down in Maputo

So much portuguese

So many places to go

The words were not french

But I swear quartose is fourteen

Had we been cursed

Or blessed by the gift of babel?

Diversity was to confuse

But it filled us with colours

And dances we agreed on

Not to mention pictures

Tastes and textures

And drawings and kisses and translation apps

And spices and fabrics

And pizza and sensualities

And attractions and irritations

And new found laughter, and unveiled naughtiness

In a world where there is no word for gay 

But an 'oi' on grindr

In a place where there is not line for love

But the gentle squeeze of a stranger's crotch

The world after babel

Blessed by her fables

Told to a people stubborn enough to find their paths back to each other

In a Maputo without English

That has really stopped none from shining

In a blessed world, with black, white and more than one meaning to bliss