It’s barely a quarter way into the new year and I am almost giving up.
When I go to the Village Market – the shopping mall where whales gnaws on minnows’ noses in Nairobi – I can’t help feeling devastated. Window(and door) shoppers are everywhere – ‘buying’ flowers like there’s nothing going on(mind you Kenya Defence Forces are getting themselves killed by militia in Somalia).
Men, with all kinds of toys, walk in and out religiously. Seeing the kind of devotion they have all what I can think of is the dedication they are putting to this whole Valentines’ Day business(the only day in a year men wear lingerie, bikinis and brassieres).
As much as I sneer at the insincerity of the love declared on this day(while the rest of the year is passionate loath and detest) I silently pray I get a dude to do that for me. In fact, I would detective-trail and watch him grappling with what size is my lingerie(only turn the present down – I’d rather he get me flowers).
I have come here to get myself girls’ stuff(it’s that time of the month the evil witch – that all women detest – comes calling. The cramps are almost killing me).
As I head to the right shelf I spot this drop dead gorgeous guy who’s not oh so into the reds section. I second guess that he’s either a rogue bachelor or an available husband from the air he has put.
At first I don’t decide to collect my jaw from his feet, but when I find myself gathering the courage my mind is a mumbo jumbo of voices inside me. The loudest of all is that which says, ‘Girl, your desperation is driving you crazy.’
Copyright © Elove Poetry.
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