Kisumu

Street boys, now street men,
teach their kids
to ply the trade.


Traffic edges forward
like the world –snake,
worshipping its consonant song
of honk and brake
as tarmac sheds off
like faded skin,
its lack of sin.


Prostitutes and reformed politicians
brave the cold in leather seats
and a populace torn piece by piece
carries the weight of being Nubian:
of life sublime in lakeside bliss.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
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