But where I come from
a man who can’t climb
the Hyperion to draw
palm wine from heaven
and dig the earth for tubers of yam
larger than Iya Basira’s arms
and hunt for a leopard
with five elephant tusks
and cut Aso Oke
directly from Jesus’ cloak
and bring sugar, rice, salt,
Fanta, Pepsi, and Malt,
baskets of fruits and assorted biscuits
from the Queen of England,
pay for Alaga Iduro and the song she sings,
pay for the past, present, and future,
pay for merely existing as a suitor…
Such a man is not ready for love.
