I’ve been all about me so much lately, I’m fed up with myself.
The goddess pulls my ears punitively like my mother used to do when I was a kid and she shouts swords into each one.
Truth hurts, so I’m distributing plasters as I beat the gong, because AfroSays:
SIX BILLION NEIGHBOURS
Are you my neighbour?
“Hello there, Are you my neighbour?”
That’s the question they all seem to be asking at each traffic light stop. Most times, I just wind the windows up because I’m tired of saving the world
“Hi sir, Do you live next to me?”
I think I do, but I don’t want to admit it. I know the truth but I’m going to conceal it.
“Good evening, would you give me a ride home?”
I’m tired of helping, please give it a rest; how many neighbours can one really assist?
“Hi again, I’m sure we’ve not really got a chance to talk but I was hoping that…”
It’s not a crime to hope, you’re allowed to have faith, I’m just hoping that you’re not hoping I’d have your needs met.
“Morning sir, you look familiar, please can you do me a favor?”
He surveys me with the same disposition as I had, four others, He then asks if he’s his neighbour’s keeper
I then remember I’ve got six billion minus one neighbours but I’d only meet a few, I’d been a jerk to four earlier and life gives what is due.
I answer thoughtfully, “Maybe we all are?”
