A cube of sugar
makes their cup of tea;
wrinkled or ironed out flat,
Naira notes must change hands.
“In another life maybe,
I could don cheap shades
and not have to look the part—
and lose the sturdy vocabularies too.”
This dream is:
their dream,
my dream,
a mortal curse
for which I sleep less;
I’m me-less,
seeing the world less,
would normal be less
The lies we’d tell to keep sane:
is that books breed smart men;
that smart men rule the world,
and that fame is ‘heaven and some’
we just can’t have our tea in peace.
Read Also==>“Eid Acts” — A Poem by Epiphany