One Cold Evening

He stands at the taxi stage, hands in his pockets.
Looking at nothing in particular
The taxi touts seem to have given up on him.
Oyo alabika ali kubibye, they must be thinking
So they scramble for the other passengers, leaving him be
He seems to be deep in thought.
I wonder what he’s thinking about
Is he trying to solve the equation that is life?
Is he thinking about his bad day at the office?
Does he work at an office?
Maybe he could be wondering whether his rolex guy is still at his mudaala.

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Lost Marbles?

He said I lost all my marbles
I started to cry,
Really weep
As I remembered the marbles I owned as a tot.
I wondered how he knew
Perhaps he was a clairvoyant.
No, he definitely was a psychic
Oh, but those marbles
Red, white, blue and yellow, they were.
Their colours reminded me of Superman
Or rather Supergirl -because, feminism (duh!)
oh my marbles.
One by one they disappeared…
Lost forever in the dusty meadows of Soroti

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Morning After [2]

8:30am
We’ve been seated here for what feels like hours. The only sound is his ragged breathing and the ticking of my roommate’s old clock.
I call out his name but it’s like he’s deaf or something. He doesn’t realize that I can’t stand to be near him because all I want to do is to jump his bones.
I know the Bible says the temptations thrown at me I will be able to handle (paraphrasing here). But I cannot handle this, I repeat, CANNOT HANDLE THIS LORD. Do you hear me?
But why does he have to look so good!?

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Day Four: Musings

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8:00am
It has been brought to my attention that my fiction has been rather dark lately, between evil Boris Kodjoe lookalike, Mr.Asiimwe and the dead Kenneth, its all gloom and doom. So today I’ll take a break from the story with no fitting title and write something light……I think. Something with rainbows and daisies and unicorns and a happy ending. Atleast. Today.
Well……………

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