YOU MAKE ME WANT TO HURL

PICTURE COURTESY: www.edbahler.com


My dear,
Eyes like gems
Graceful as a swan
Cultured and proper.
You came to mind today,
Now the very thought of you makes me want to hurl.


Dispatching love letters,
Waiting patiently on your responses
For the snail was our mailman,
Carrying those very letters on its back.
The long wait
Too painful
Yet bitter sweet.
I sit here today,
Cannot shake those thoughts of you,
Thoughts of you that just make me want to hurl.


I remember times when you drew water from the river five times in a day,
Funny,
Auntie Ama mistook that for hard-work on your part.
I spent hours on the farm
Pulling ghost weeds and tending over-pampered crops,
Papa would then leave me behind,
Swelled with pride in a hardworking farmer son.
If only they knew the secret to our work ethic
All that hard-work
Just so we could meet by the riverside
Roll in the tall grass
And run after each other through Wofa Atta’s
Plantain farm.
Now I can no longer stomach plantain,
The river no longer appeals to me
And Papa’s sad to have lost the farmer in me,
I no longer stay as long as I used to.
My dear,
Whenever you come to mind, I just want to hurl.


Today, after church,
Mama sent me to Maame Akua’s place,
I insisted on leaving right away,
I was looking my best after all,
Who doesn’t look good in church clothes?
As I walked by Wofa Atta’s plantain farm,
Thoughts of you came to me in a rush,
Oh!!! If only plantain trees could speak,
They sure would be telling tales,
Tales of us behind the tool shed,
The workshop
And in the hammock,
Oh yes!!! The hammock.
Tales I wish I could really forget,
For those very tales make me want to hurl.


Mind’s made up,
Just at the thought of you,
I lowered my head in a bid to hurl,
Saw my church shoes,
New, black and pretty shiny too,
Surely I cannot hurl on these shoes,
Doing that would definitely ruin the shoes and me.
How else would I impress Maama Akua’s daughter then?
We’ve never exchanged words before
But Maama Akua is a pretty wile one
She always finds an excuse to leave us all by ourselves
Whenever I happen to pass by their house.
In situations like those,
My tongue gets tied
I grow wide eyed
And my chest tightens up
As if I was in a corset.
Then I begin beam like a Cheshire cat
At the sight of those big black eyes
They look so much like pearls,
Dimpled cheeks
Jet black hair
And brows so perfect as though drawn
Aided by compasses of an ace architect.


Esi seems to enjoy this dance of ours too
For she then begins to glow like a firefly
And fidgets with her long flowing hair
Making feint noises like the Warsaw philharmonic
Choir on an ice cold winter’s night.
For the sake of my shoes and Esi my black pearl,
I will not hurl today at thoughts of you,
I will wait till tomorrow, when I wear my flipflops,
Popularly called “charley wotey”,
It is then that I will hurl if you dare invade my thoughts again.
I cannot ruin my shoes because of you,
That very act would give me dissatisfaction
And you satisfaction,
You are not worth me ruining my shoes.
Time’s far spent
I have to go now,
My firefly awaits,
I must make a grand entrance.