Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
We need quarters like King Tut needed a boat. A slave could row
him to heaven from his crypt in Egypt full of loot. We've lived
quietly among the stars, knowing money isn't what matters. We
only bring enough to tip the shuttle driver when we hitch a ride
aboard a trailblazer of light. This comet could scour the planet.
Make it sparkle like a fresh toilet swirling with blue. Or only come
close enough to brush a few lost souls. Time is rotting as our
bodies wait for now I lay me down to earth. Noiseless patient
spiders paid with dirt when what we want is star dust. If nature
abhors an expensive appliance, why does the planet suck ozone?
This is a big ticket item, a thickety ride. Please page our home
and visit our sigh on the wide world's ebb. Just point and cluck at
our new persuasion shoes. We're opening the gate that opens our
containers for recycling. Time to throw down and take off on our
launch. This flight will nail our proof of pudding. The thrill of
victory is, we're exiting earth. We're leaving all this dirt.
Written by Harryette Mullen
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