Out throats itched for the spicy chickens

Served to customers whose pockets

Were made of money.

What did we have?

A turnaround wouldn’t be bad.

Instead, we shopped with our eyes,

And ate the raspberries accompanying

The Monster drinks.

Oh well. At least we had a few hundred to spare.

The price tags were a killjoy.

We got what we came for;

We didn’t want the gaze of starvation

To lock us any further.

We skedaddled.

Samuel Nzebor is an emerging poet from the Niger Delta region of Nigeria. His works have appeared on Kalahari Review, MojaveHeart Magazine, Tuck Magazine, Praxis Magazine, and elsewhere. He envisions a world without pain. Follow him on Twitter @samuelnzebor.