The old man hawks for a reason
This is street:
The language is raw, unguided,
& offensive like the way a green whore moans.
Perhaps, the old man hawks
Under a sun that reveres not the king’s head
With sweat drifting down from his armpit
Because he had wrapped his lucks into weed
Soothed it with bottles of gin and Andre
& smoked when his hairs were still black.
The old man hawks
With a sight that only seeks survival
On a tongue that knows not how pride tastes,
Maybe because his was a blunt needle
In the body of a dress that suddenly stiffened
With pores closing up into a rigid wall.
The old man hawks
Bearing the weight of luxury
That won’t buy him a new pair of shoe
Because he lives in a city that sleeps not
But chants days and nights, the slogan,
‘While the rich gets richer, the poor gets poorer’
Somehow, there will always be old men
Hawking, doing things that contradicts the desires
Of nature, for a reason.
If tomorrow, you become one of these old men
Do not be weary, there will always be a reason-
A reason too genuine to save you from mockery.
PhotoCredit: Adedayo Agarau
Written by Micheal Ace
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