MALE PROSTITUTE
Right around the corner from where i stand,
There's a man that i cannot understand.
He stands face high wearing nickers on the street,
Looking for lickers who can dance to the beat.
Now, don't get alarmed by my choice of words,
Because all they do is simply tell it as it is in verse,
These words they speak wisdom to the heart.
Back to that man,
Hmmm, he needs a name,
Let's call him Stan.
Now Stan sits cross legged,
With his cross fit trained"entumbwe"
Showing out strongly.
At regular intervals he raises up one of his legs,
Opens it up wide,
In order to reveal the secrets beneath his cross dress.
Ah!! He sees a customer,
Stan ensues to whistle at her,
Calling her, taunting her, telling her...
I only charge in dollars.
She smiles, nods her head,
And then follows him to a different corner.
On the corner of that street,
He jumps right on her,
Listen,
In this story there is no place for honor,
No need for trousers....and
After a couple of minutes,
She gives out a scream and it's over!!!
Stan returns to his corner,
Bewildered, drained, dehydrated,
But for some reason after a couple of minutes,
He is refreshed and sober.
He has this look in his eyes.
A look that suggests that the night is not over.
"The night has just began"
"I have to make a little more cheda"
"My life has to get better"
"I will sell myself to the highest bidder"
"I will sell my soul to the highest bidder"
"I will move my hips with vigor"
...."I will sell my soul to the highest bidder"
When Stan goes back home in the morning,
Drowsy, sleepy and yawning,
He opens the fridge and looks for a soda,
The purpose for the soda,
Is to drown out that taste in his mouth,
That is bitter.
His lips and hips are sore,
His dignity is far beyond shattered and torn,
Yawn!!! He moves towards the table,
To pick up the phone so that he can roam through Instagram.
On his way to the table,
He stops and stares at the mirror.
As he looks at the mirror,
His vision is blurred,
But the image is clear.
He is a male prostitute,
The image is as clear as can be,
The male prostitute that is looking at the mirror is really me!!!
A Poem By Bruno Edgard
