My friend from the city, calls to warn,
to not serve him boiled tapiocas when he comes home.
Yes, I agree cassava cannot be an item of lavish taste,
but I wonder who could say no,
to those lovely tubers shaken freshly from earth,
with the dampness of life still sticking to its sides
like a cloak and the smell of rain,
the nascent of mountain rains holding in them,
as if it has stocked all the monsoons for this sudden introduction to light.
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