Two three-storey buildings having a street splinter them like a sternum dividing the ribs,
peer into the eyes of each other with candidness. I live in one of them, the one with a cream complexion and claret jacket. I see the world from the balcony of the first floor —books are my binoculars. I see how distance never meant far apart, it means inability to cross a tiny path to get to your friend. The two buildings of the same stature, chubby, are friends that want to hold hands but a street living its own life divorced them. This is Ajegunle — you have to maintain your BOUNDARY, carry your hustle like a luggage on your head, but every December, people in the buildings throw fireworks at one another, flinging echoes and songs in the air. This is the only time you get to see the radiation of joy brimming on the faces of the two buildings as if stars dropped from the sky and hung there.
Abdullah Jimoh O.
is a linguist and a nascent poet & writer. He finds delight in creativity. His works have appeared or are forthcoming in the IHRAM’s anthology: Thorns, Tears and Treacgery, Verum Literary Press, Thanatos Review, Mudroom, The Kalahari Review, and Afritondo. He tweets @OC_plus_
