Poetry

_____________________________________________________


GIRAFFES, TREE STUMPS AND THE LITTLE BOY
It was a bright red door with straddling metals.
In front of it stood five muscular, perfumed men,
Who were “up to no good,” as my uncle would say
Two were tree stump short with frowning faces
And the other two were giraffe tall and smiley.
A boy I’d met the previous day told me they
Are always drunk so I had to tread carefully.
I’m not sure where they drank for I saw no bottles,
But I’d know a few days later what “drunk” meant
The first tree stump asked if I had a girlfriend.
The second tree stump joked: “I know her!”
The first giraffe smiled: “I flirt with her!”
The second giraffe only laughed and shook his head.
I’d troubled many troubles, so I soldiered by.
Like a stone statue and a meek fellow, I sulked
And wished I could just whisk by them and sigh,
But the first tree stump followed me:
“So, you aren’t a ‘nigga’ you are ‘a sir!’"
But the boy’s warning sounded in my head”
they Are always drunk so tread carefully.”
But they were not drunk as I’d later learn…
It was only the “arrogance” in me they despised:
“To axe it short like a tree stump by that red door,”
So, I artfully painted smiles on my face,
And that was all the “arrogance” they wanted.
Boom! Lights out by that dreadful red door!
I opened my eyes and the boy stared at me,
Sitting on a blue and white plastic clinic chair:
“They said you are a little arrogant sucker
and they flirt with your girl so why
punch you in the face?” The little boy asked.

My Trump and Barr face vexed up and sneered:
“And who the hell are you again, Little Boy?”
I writhed painfully and frowned.
 “What is flirt?” The strange Little Boy said!
“Facebook!” I said and turned.

 © 2019 Kuir ë Garang