People of the Past
Where are those people I left in the past
have they become memories, existing only in the realm of thought,
abstract figures
full of life, blood and guile living
The house in Ikeja, the policemen who guarded it
the tilers in Lagos
The widow in Port Harcourt
The waitresses in Ghana
The taxi man who took me to the park
the bike men in Seme
the policemen in Togo
The border guards in Abijan
the driver in Ireland
the shopman in Dubai
the kind shop guy in Malaysia
our paths crossed once in eternity,
I remain a hallucination,
you remain etched in my thoughts
immortalised by my words
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