Men Simply Loving Men
We sit together on a cloth like gold,
My couch in Africa, and eat plain stew
He made. We drink our bottled water cold,
Ice formed inside, because we take the view
That drinks in harmattan should spend much time
Inside my freezer. Only after that
Should they be shared. Warm sharing here’s a crime.
Nigeria is not a habitat
For love. The only things that matter here
Are God and money (read: hypocrisy).
This combination of cold greed and fear
Of Him produces demonocracy
Dressed up as righteousness. We wink at crass
Religion. Loving hates their love of brass.