While my buddies bounced at

the back  of bluebonnet Ford

Slamming shut their uncle’s

yellow-door Ford

I ducked bursting spooky seed-coats

Teachers mistook my gnashing teeth

for a smile

We didn’t own a two-wheeled Toyota

I gulped throat-aching sour milk

and snoozed on boxes mattress

Snooping to the squeaking bed’s lullaby

The stabbing diamond mesh tickling

my ribs Caretakers mistook my

shaking head for a No?

With a rubber, I wiped my torturing yesterday

The wind swishing my cracking heels

and the sunbow televising the fluid-filled bubbles on my feet

With a white stripe grey blanket, I shielded my face from a bully called tomorrow

I gathered green and yellow scraps of soaps-

and built a brick-size soap

A rosemary scented soap that

lasted me a semester

I hitchhike embaku-mbaku, but

the orange overall driver

snubbed my plopping teardrops

Like a loafing teacher,

he graded the white crushed stones zero out of ten

That was before sliced bread

Everything changed when

Santa-Stephen gifted me his school uniform   

A pair of black Kiwi shoes,

a grey short

purplish blue shirt

with knee-shy grey socks

And cut me pangaa style with a rattling

manual hair clipper

Finally, Nana picked me in a pony-pulled Mazda

* pangaa – buddy

embakumbaku- grader