Thursday, January 22, 2009

The Lorry Station

Papa Alata

The little rising dust

Like brown water spray,

Of a fountain overburdened,

Junked up palm kernels noisy,

With torn – up tarpaulin tops

These wooden body Lorries,

Their blaring horns,

Like the unheeded mournful tones

Of a whale calling;

All in a confusion of burying humanity

That was the lorry station

Of the birds eye view.

No comments: