O-oh, colleagues sent me off to change on
seeing me wearing running shorts, noses
turned up in the air, disgusting, all in our
doting old-age, dignity is most important,
even with the temperature in the open-plan
office at thirty degrees and I had been to
the library in this heat, wearing my yellow
Bafana T-shirt, already putting hubby’s
heckles up when he saw me this morning
Why, oh why is it so difficult to conform,
oh why do I do not try harder to hide my
eccentric attire before being spotted? With
my blood sugar at an all time low, I cannot
concentrate and my stash of boiled sweets
is finished, I had better get ready to fall into
the black hole of oblivion waiting to swallow
the unprepared insulin-depleted; if I have to
stuff another peanut into my mouth I shall
Burst and it would not be a pretty sight –
imagine the faces of the virtuous cohorts
upon witnessing such an incident!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem