"Chunya, Muoj k’ombasa"

In the still of the evening beauty,
Down the rough roads of Kung’a,
I saw you dressed in white,
Eyes sucked by the dry breeze of chaos,
Hair swinging in the wind like Brazilian feet dancing bachata,
Coined breasts drawing obtuse angles in a tight grey blouse,
Spotless like a yellow fluorescent ink,
Tiny sweat  nourishing the areola like palmettos leaves
Heart pumping and sprouting with lust like permanganated broth