By Tikum Mbah Azonga
There is a sound I hate to hear
It is that of kissing vehicles
They remind me of asphalt flowers in the wild
And crimson bright Bunsen burners left unattended.
I prefer sidewalk stories about the old bear
Waving its peppermint wand despite the trickles
If you think the dose is too mild
Then that’s why the Lord Mayor’s coat returned untended.