The Soldiers At Apple Junction Poem by Oluwatosin Richard Shiba Aribo

The soldiers at Apple Junction'
Pile obstructions on the road
A log, a drum, a dead horse

A beat up green army truck parked by the kerb'
Six pairs of red eyes peep into the sedan'
Three on either side of the vehicle'
Cutting a picture of crooks in their redolent combats, hats, and slippers;
Ak 47's muzzle on my head through the wind shield'

Through my rear view mirror, I see the traffic build up'
Impatient motorists, maddened by the boiling sun and traffic snarl, rip the air apart blaring their horn'
The palpitating heat swells'
Car air conditioner blown out'
Tempers seethe'
Seethe to levels of combustion!
The soldiers march up and down!
As if looking for something'
Sweating'
Mad'
Mad at me, mad at you!
Mad at roadside hawkers'
Mad at the sun,
Mad at the bitumen road
Mad at the drooping telephone wires'
Mad at thursdays!
Barking!
Swearing!
Hitting car bonnets with rifle butts'
Drunken' in this third world city breath'
And the traffic quickly sweeps from Apple junction to Palace Way'
bursting through to Apapa Expressway, beyond Berger, beyond the backwaters of Tin Can Coconut,
Beyond where the earth meets the rotted sky