Wednesday, 24 August 2011


In his heydays, he bestraddled
All the hip night spots--
Lambada, Tembo, Bobz—
Cash flowed from his pocket
Like the tits of a Friesian cow
He visited the Pirates Beach, cruised
In glass boats, wore dark sunglasses,
Tipped the beach boys in thousands
For he had won a lottery

But now, you see him
A haggard frame abused with cocaine
He strolls aimlessly, a pale shadow of his former self
Sometimes you find him in Mtwapa
With a wistful look of a retired soldier
Or he could be spotted staring at Nakumatt
As if to relive his former glory


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