some of the things achebe and soyinka made me remember

a stripe struck all over the sand, swept with broomsticks welded at their tips

together with black rubber, now a broom,

no technology can change that, swiffer mops can’t handle nigerian dirt

tiger clawed into soft clods, housegirls still wear clogs, like its hip

like yesterday their madams just came back from a europe college trip,

with bellbottoms and vinyl sleeves, hand me down clothes, black dreams love em

hand me down socks, shoes and super nintendos, mario mushrooming across corrugated sheet tentpoles

streetfighters with moves from the television slapping proper vision over knife peeled oranges, spit into the streets for goats to hustle over

my loud fire on the kiosk avenue, with skewered liver, kidney and tomatoes

we need to rub our mouths with salt to slake the burn

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