The choice of colour was wrong
Black, the magical and mystical
Colour that holds Africans in awe
And instills a sense of pride
From lions to men, and even women

The black SUV is now baking him
As he dozes in the sultry Sunday
Heat in the church car park, as
The pastor drones on and on as
Heard through the PA system

The SUV is slowly baking the
Heavy set, heavy eyed man, as
Sweat drips from his brow, as
It makes rivulets down his back
To the nether regions, yonder

The buzz from the fly, or is it
The drone from the distant aircraft
Or is it the drone from the PA system
Is torturing his day dream, of a night
Past, filled with myriad events

Since he cannot doze in church, his
Drunken stupor beginning to fade
The heavy set man, in the baking
Black SUV must suffer in silence
As the pastor condemns him, on and on

Sunday is supposed to be a day of
Rest, from nocturnal activities, both
In-house and otherwise, but as fate
Would have it, he has to drive the
Family to church, and suffer and bake

The SUV should have been white, so
As to reflect the sun rays, and give
Him respite from the heat, that is slowly
Baking him and fermenting the chemicals
In his body, thanks to a long night out

Away from the prying eyes of his family
The heavy set man stirs to life, ignites
The engine, and slowly drives away, to
Get a drink and calm his nerves, and
Halt the drumming in his head, for now

© mwenda riungu