once he sat buddha-like in his sweetly-scented sanctuary she walked in typhoon-like – unfurled his head unfurled his mind unfurled his loins today he lies beached-whale-like in his sickly-smelling sanctuary not knowing where his plans went or why the well-thumped book of astrology lay useless beside him as he studies the decimal family-plan calendar in his hand crossed twelve times where it failed.

© F-K Omoregie 2016