These
are hard times.
The
dance of the silver shilling
Has
no lining
Like
the cloud
It
dances with the vigor of youth
At
a sprinters speed
It
is a new dance
To
a painful song that doesn’t end
The
dollar, is slower, stable even
Having
curved its place
In
the community of currencies
It
reclines in the loftiness of its majesty
Daring
others to usurp its power
Oil
prices refuse
Compartmentalization
of all kind
They
sashay as they please
Like
bus fare in Nairobi
Landlords
inundate phones
With
calls, and the occasional threats
Reminding
tenants of their place
In
the hierarchy of eat who and what you can
While
you can before being eaten in return!
Jobs,
like pretty demure girls
Still
play hard to get
And
girls vigorously dance to chiming coins
And
some boys, too, I’ve been told!
Boss
says we’ve got to wait a little longer
Salary
increments increase shilling’s circulation
Lengthening
the talons of inflation
Maybe,
when the shilling stabilizes, inflation
Reduces,
when production triples
Maybe
we’ll get the increment!
Mama
Mboga says, due to shillings fall
And
fluid oil prices, and inflation
Some
sticks of kale will be missing
From
the bundle but for the same old price!
