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A Hurt Passenger Loosens His Tongue
These bastards styling as men’s movers
From their short trips expect universe;
Traveler to pay for bag in booth
Or get ready to lose his front tooth…
I’m the sorely aggrieved passenger
Usefully turned God’s messenger.
You don’t passenger try to clean through;
Your cheap hapless lies make out as true,
Voices sounding like owners might die,
If they should be asked a probing “why?”
Now, I see a business of necks squeezed,
Until moisture drops, no pressure eased…
A once-good driver turns a dummy
From grabbed money bulging his tummy;
Sure-to-invite tears obesity
That shortens dear life without pity…
“Traveler not the same as his load,”
Say Nigerian drivers on the road…”
Copyright ©
Chinedum Ekwobi
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