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Slow Wining At the Junkanoo
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Poetry of My Bahamian Origin Neon colors melting through the palm tree leaves,
Her hips brushing mine like the softest breeze.
Got a beat in the box and the salt‑air sweet,
But the way she moves is the real heartbeat.
Drop the tailgate low, let it sink in the sand,
She slides in close, fingers curling ’round my hand.
Hear that whistle blow—there goes the band,
But she’s the only rhythm I can barely stand.
We’re slow wining at the Junkanoo,
Underneath a moon that’s big and blue.
Got her body on my body, moving smooth,
Letting the drums tell us what to do.
With the goatskin heat and the brassy horns,
Holding her tight till the early morn.
Yeah, the party’s wild, but my world is you,
Just slow wine for me at the Junkanoo.
Feathers flying, gold and green in the night,
But she’s the one glowing in the soft moonlight.
Glitter on her shoulders catching every sight,
And the way she sways just feels so right.
It’s a back‑road soul on a tropical shore,
Her waist on mine makes me crave her more.
She pulls me in deeper than ever before—
Why wait on sunshine when she’s what I’m shining for?
We’re slow wining at the Junkanoo,
Underneath a moon that’s big and blue.
Got her body on my body, moving smooth,
Letting the drums tell us what to do.
With the goatskin heat and the brassy horns,
Holding her tight till the early morn.
Yeah, the party’s wild, but my world is you,
Just slow wine for me at the Junkanoo.
Left foot, right foot—slow it down,
Her breath on my neck as we turn around.
Feel the bass hit, feel the night surround—
Ain’t no sweeter sound.
We’re slow wining at the Junkanoo,
Underneath a moon that’s big and blue.
Got her body on my body, moving smooth,
Letting the drums tell us what to do.
With the goatskin heat and the brassy horns,
Holding her tight till the early morn.
Yeah, the party’s wild, but my world is you,
Just slow wine for me at the Junkanoo.
