Every Friday night
he quarreled with money;
he threw blows at the crisp cash
Flipping it out in bundles
and watched with satisfaction
as girls struggled to have
their own portion of manna.
Last Friday at the club as usual,
He came with bundles of naira notes
Eager to throw as many packs into the air
And as many girls off their owners,
But the bouncers were not at the entrance
The banging replaced with utter quiet
The bartenders were in mufti
And the girls were probably on strike.
Only then did he know that
There was RECESSION.


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