Though we rarely move on limos,
Jeeps of Camrys, Kekes in Bikes
Are my make up.
Roads well planned, badly drilled;
Two lanes coming and going
Through my traffic jam
At snail’s fast slowness.
The dotted lines of rain’s drops
Break in sky’s movement.
Showers heavily light
Impact scrambles of mingled sweat
Greasing human elbows in shuffles.
The heat beautifully descends
As I hawk, shout:
The passion welling up in me.
My sky is blue, my weather is glued
As courses revolve round each other.
Look, see what I hear
Pool of life we possess,
Priceless as gold.
OKEKE AKUDO NKEMJIKA CHRISTIEN