Street Love
She rose from the brilliantly blue Lake Malawi to outshine the sun above her head like a flourishing morning sunflower. The water had done a jaw-dropping Sherlock Holmes job on her skin detecting all her impeccable beauty that was concealed under a three-month old layer of what Chikondi subconsciously convinced himself to call street ‘hygiene’. Her hair that was like a concoction of spiritless vines and dust from the lifestyle she associated herself with started resurrecting with incredible signs of life like witch weeds. The scintillating whiteness of her sclera escaped cunningly through the gaps of her wet eyelashes as her pretty gazelle eyes blinked in attempt to adjust to the breeze that welcomed her on the surface. Some water droplets seemed to be beseeching they remained on her delicate cheeks until they were shaken off by a feminine smile that was punctuated by a prompt simultaneous incurving of her gorgeous dimples.
“What’s in a gazelle for a fond man like me?” Chikondi’s thoughts started to eat him alive.
Yet his eyes couldn’t help but further investigate the same droplets as they went creeping leisurely downwards until they collided right at her sexy teen cleavage before they vanished. Inside her tattered blouse, whose shoulder strings were definitely a product of her own handcraft, firmly stood her seductive breasts perpendicular to her slightly protruded chest and somehow seeming to have overcome gravity. Her braless nipples, sharp and pointed as thorns, would have pierced through her blouse hadn’t it been for the clemency of their astounding resilience. May God forgive her blouse that could barely reach her navel, exposing her curvy waistline whose magnificence it owed to the wrath of the streets.
In his scarred hands he still bore the bamboo fishing rod with a thread extracted from white jute plant. Hanging at the end of the string was a hook whose bait had been snatched from it by a lucky Chambo fish whose clock missed to chime death O’clock 10 minutes ago.
“Only the…..” Chikondi’s second thought was instantly interrupted.
What colonized his mind now was the alluring way her shapely feminine brown thighs, that peered timidly at him through the slit of her soaked gunny sack skirt, flashed as she walked towards the beach.
“Only the flawless angels possess the rights to blame Mama Malawi for fornicating with constellations of the whole Universe in her quest to bring forth such a unique beauty,” with his mouth stuck in ‘awe’ shape and his eyes defying every single blink that dared to come between them and the materializing miracle, Chikondi finally managed to finish his thought.
She continued footing it ashore, placing one foot cautiously in front of the other as though she were an experienced ropewalker. An occasional gleam made its way from her toenails that were masterly manicured in burped up ink she had probably procured from scrap pens. Behind him she slowly sauntered like an ant, making her natural essence torment him with dreams. Daringly demanding dreams. Dreams he knew deserved his transformation from no one to someone were they at all to come true. Like her, Chikondi was just a waif. Unlike him, his instincts perpetually promised him, she was an angel sent to change his hellish odds into paradise.
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