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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