MyMuse: Hustle

Waiting patiently and anxiously for the red so she could join the fray of teeming hawkers to peddle
Food, drink, fruits, pastries, books, stationery an astonishing medley
The way the tray of boiled groundnuts perched precariously on her head
Her neck stiffened, her upper body upright with her legs assiduously carrying her to her next few cedis
Yet I could not miss the sway of the hips

Every time he senses someone pass by he stretches out his hand
Calling out with what is barely audible and mostly incomprehensible
But it tugs at the heart of the compassionate who drop in a few coins
His arm never tires because he somehow knows that it would be useless at his side
Yet I could not miss the smile

This is the ordinary man’s hustle
What to eat, drink
And here I am thinking about first world petty  like how to get a new phone and how to worm my way into that girl’s life with lies
I feel guilty and ashamed that am living shallow
Yet I cannot miss that I feel a conscience and a calling


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