Long and elaborate
journey it was
in longing to reach the destination, Ondo
my eyes longed for a rest
my legs longed for a stretch
the heat in my ass
could boil a tank—full of water

I poked from rear to rear
wanting to see the front
wanting to see the running of the car
the back seat upon which I seated
blocked my view

The eyes of passengers
like my self, had shut
and their heads curled in their arms
I broached to my mind
my displeasure against—
against my legs— my hands— my eyes
for not content – for not meek
but they wouldn’t comply

I was giving to their demand
when proclaimed someone
‘we are in Ondo’

I could not measure the glee
that marathon within me
for I prevail upon my
intemperate—self