POETRY ON THE HIGHWAY
The drab sameness; The cold grey and wet screen Of pouring dew blanketing the view Of nature’s mysteries, As this bus sways along The treacherous road to Benin Is all I see.
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ON MY WAY TO AUCHI
On my way to Auchi Ha! I perceive Atlas In the frowning sky, His back bent with weight. Yes I did perceive the goat-faced charlatan And I laughed. I perceive the smoke from the burnt length On my way to Auchi.