ZONGO JUNCTION, WEDNESDAY, 5:30AM.

I wrote this in 2008… I never finished it… perhaps someone can finish it for me

 

ZONGO JUNCTION, WEDNESDAY, 5:30AM

An old man shuffles, bent and twisted with age,

Weariness defines his much wrinkled visage…

He really should be at home leaning back in retirement,

Watching his grandchildren play… relaxation… enjoyment…

Yet he must work like a horse, day after endless sweat-soaked day,

For that greedy miserly boss, for the meanest pay…

Perhaps it is his lot to suffer in this transient life,

Perhaps he must take comfort, for others are facing strife…

But now you! you need his vote, so you suddenly see him clearly,

These “gifts” you give him, he will pay for them dearly…

He sells a little bit of his soul for a bag of rice, a t-shirt, some cash

And then he votes for you, and three months later… backlash

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