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Open your metallic door,
You beautiful Acoli girl.
I may not be from your side
But Africa is in my insides.
You tell me I'm from the other side,
But truthfully I fell in love with you.
No matter our cultures
We are of the same feather.
He was a big man, says the size of his
perimeter
and watch-out towers around his
compound;
A scared man too, say his armoured
vehicles
in a strongroom nearby; and not
God-fearing,
say the Bibles rarely opened
in every bookcase of this citadel,
smelling of print;
but not a man of the people, says the
jewellery
cluttered with rocks and shiny metal.
Women lived with him, sometimes, say
the photos
in his safes and, some yellowing with
age
and some very young mistresses your
kid's age-
not surprising he had no children.
(...)
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