(And One Million Boys came...)
the helicopter dances in the air
àkàrà balls fry in a pan
every eye watches
hovering with a storm of questions
last month,
Mama Bola's àkàrà pan upturned
on the burnished body of an area boy
who hugged karma by the roadside
here,
we all dance daily too
when the Ceasers come knocking for a pay:
-a 70-plus grandmother grabs her money bowl
-a feverish boy jerks into temporal sanity
-a father kisses his iron rod & storms out
the helicopter dances in the air
àkàrà balls fry in a pan
and,
mother earth dances in the dark
gulping our worries in tiny droplets
-rain.