For All That We Were 

seeking the sultry delights of the chevron of your golden thighs
that gleam against brown sheets like the Abeokuta sunrise
I still hold the taste of you from the last time
on my tongue like an unspoken promise


The shadows grow longer and the grey clouds journey home
And now the madman seeks the sanity of privacy
Gingerly, he gathers his belongings
And abandons his perch at the market’s T-junction
Giddily, he falls in step with us