They run around
the thirsty city
always at the mercy
of an elsewhere,
celebrating what
they like to hate
Pointing fingers
At what they hardly see
or rubbing shoulders
they do not know.
They search for elixirs
under rocks
and look for power pills
concealed in
purloined pillows.
They toddle around like aliens
seeking muses to hug.
Striving to adopt frog’s eye view
of the city wish they knew
They coin words
that put accent
on the cracks
sullying the floors
of cooperation.
They kneel at altars
and attend life assurance rallies
carrying begging bowls
crying foul
while paying their dues.
They spend hours
polishing their tongues
staring at the mirrors
of their work-stations
and digging up
other people’s misery
keeping children awake
with accounts
that do not add up?
They breeze around dreaming
noxious scenarios that poke
into people’s feelings.
They sit and patiently take
the lid off the pot of prejudice
Disturbing with profane fingers
breathing walking fossils
as they talk shop
and talk sense
to the builders
of the silos of bigotry
They find ways of avoiding
cul-de-sacs of solipsism.
They size up the iron facts
outside their poetic circles
and scratch their itches
as they frame questions badly
and ramble along the by lanes
of the city of dry skins.
Tiro Sebina
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