Dry Biscuit


Nairobi – dry as a biscuit and squeaky on the plate like dry toast.  The air is warm and sudden gusts of wind spread the dust like rain does water.

People rush from point a to b, to c, to Zed. A day off and I wonder, what causes the traffic hum to start at five?  A city of worker ants – we killed off the bees!  Traffic everywhere and not a man in blue in sight.

Children awakened and families form a harried rush.  The sun glares, plants wilt and people swelter as the day grows old.

Shoes and feet dusty.  Accomplished in our woes.   Nairobi, we live for the rush and gush of news.  Politics, or horror-ticks!  We love to ogle and goggle and knew things that are no longer new.

Hew and cry. Expense. Dense. Air.  Flair. Lies and tape.

Nairobi’s dry as a biscuit. What if it rains. What if it floods?

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