At The Fuel Station Poem by Akujuobi Chijioke

Queued under a waterless bridge
Filed up in mobile cottages
Rows upon rows of trails;
Seeking liquidized energy.

But none was found
Save shriveled empty gallons,
And buckets of head-driven water
Escorted by women with wrappers hugging their waist.

'Are you selling? ' they ask;
As more seekers converge
Displaying various colours of containers
Hoping for a miracle downpour.

Then came the 'oga'
With a boisterous demeanour
Speeding in with his black corolla;
'There's no fuel, close the gates' he yelled.

We all stared in dismay
But still with the eyes of faith:
For I must get fuel today
Even if the nights finds me in straits.

So I thought,
My patience died to reality...