I miss the color of the sun,
spreading its bleached bottoms over the horizon
making the sunrise
The array of contrasting stars,
suspended into space
wandering like Cane
The bulging darkness of the clouds
and the non stop urination
while erect umbrellas roam the market square
like diseased dogs
I miss the greedy gnashing of car tires
protesting against the gravel
violent sirens like the prison gongs
announcing the presidential procession
I miss the zebra crossing moment
holding the world at pause,
mocking the angry engines
posh cars giving me a standing ovation
while I cross on my toes.
I miss the aromas of the street
the spiced blend of dust and diesel fumes,
the waking noise and the silence,
of landing Boeings and Bombardiers
the choking hullabaloo of hawkers,
at the bus stop
I miss the inebriated orientals at Inema
singing in remix and dancing to boujee,
the sluggishly dressed lady puffing ganja,
singing along with her breasts whining to the beat of raggae
I miss ALU, its evenings
gambling with assignments
pleading with time
worked out brains, trafficked minds
jammed bottoms
trying to beat the deadlines
I miss the mobs at Open Space
the chatter of quarreling peer groups
the ravishing hugs and alluring pecks
the crushing and crashing
the scent of lovebirds cuddled in pretence
the legal porn in Bujumburaš.Ā
I miss I miss
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