(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.