Once upon a bedsitter …

Some times, you forget to turn off the tap. Then you go to bed. One such plumbing mistake in a bedsitter would find you waking up by the seaside. Life can be a total beach in a bedsitter. Black-outs in bedsit land? Misery too. … More Once upon a bedsitter …

Tragedy at House No. 352

That’s why I’ll miss Otis. I’m sure his wifey never discovered our numerous escapades through breathalyzer checkpoints, completely unscathed by the law. Mark you, Otis was rarely home. I’ll long for the inebriated attempts to sing some golden country music such as “country road, take me home” that Otis did at the wheel; having arrived at the gate in one piece at 1 a.m. Most times he’d visit my quarters at the top-most floor the following day-break before wifey got up and leave me with the remnant oranges, lemons, gum and other chewables that were myriads attempts to drown the smell of alcohol that she loathed. “Mrs. Otis didn’t entertain edible paraphernalia in the house unless brought by her,” Otis often claimed. … More Tragedy at House No. 352

POEM: Hanukkah’s Farm

pawpaw ripe and heavy, falls into fish pond, fish scamper to safety, the world they’ve always known, is liquid and square six metre wide, sheltered from piercing sun rays, by mango trees east, sheltered from piercing hunger, by poop from chicken house, that lies above the pond, suspended chicken house it is, like a castle … More POEM: Hanukkah’s Farm