Popular Fiction

Popular Fiction

Popular Fiction

she’s looking for love in a CLK
silver like a bullet straight to my heart
she said
that’s what i want 	she smears her lips
orange flame and pouts	yes
i would be somebody then	a yard
bigger than your fields of maize in
tribal trustlands and walls like those of Jericho
behind which i sleek and spoiled will hide
from these narrow streets 	endless acceptance
of mediocrity		she strokes a rough palm
over stretched denim and winds her waist to a silent tune
this body has a future you know – two kids no more
she smiles
repairs to follow	yes
would you ask me to sweep your muddy floors then
offer me day-old sadza and sugar bean stew, hmm
i would laugh in your face
she draws on some eyebrows in black pencil
lines her eyes		shakes 
a mane of sixty-thousand-dollar hair 
from union street flea market		oh yes
baby-girl’s got a dream	silver like a bullet
a crown on this pretty head		me – ghetto queen