Cursed Street

I hit Bishop Wills' street, A reflection of Mbarara's sadness, UMEME goons are in deep slumber, No street lights to illuminate the night, Electric poles lie in the road and block pedestrians' paths, Live wires sag slightly above our thick heads, Street-kids throng the rubbish pits And leave with a cordial thanksgiving, They compete with karooli, and the vultures For crumbs of rotten meat, Culverts, bridges and sewage gutters are their only homes, albeit the filth therein. On this cursed street Thick nimbus clouds from tobacco Hover above the street And form acid rain, God, the gods and the goddesses can all testify, This is a cursed street!