I remember my street
Down the road was a coven
Dragonnaire was their haven
A place,
Where all whores looked forward to
They paraded around
Clad in nothing but their bare bodies
Dressed in nakedness
With long eye lashes and painted nails
Different colors of the effect of those creams on their bodies

A place where dreams were torn
Where priorities were misplaced
A haven where lives were wasted
We got to watch young old ladies
Walk around naked
Flaunting their dead assets
Fallen breasts and sagging buttocks
Roaming about,
For the pleasure of us viewers
Anybody could go in and lay with them
Even a dog with a coin.
They pulled their pants
Smelt it, washed it
And spread it outside
For the pleasure of us viewers still

I remember the men in big cars
Who wore expensive kaftans
Who would park streets away
Trek down to this haven
Look around,
Cover their faces and run inside

Did their business and came out
Looking exhausted
Then the fights would begin
Who the man winked at
Who he serviced most
Who felt his presence the most
Who wanted him next
All these
To the view of the general public still

We would run from our houses
Down to the street
To watch clothes get torn
Bald heads getting exposed
We would laugh at their stories
Of whose manhood was too big
Or too tiny
Of how they came to Dragonnaire
Of how poverty dragged them down
Of how most of them got raped by their uncles
It was always an uncle
That gateman was an uncle
And so was the plumber
And they gave up
Before you know it
The fight would be over before it began

Beautiful girls wasting away
Talented ones rotten and spoilt
I tell you it’s pissing off!
But now,
With girls becoming women
With prostitution becoming a day old job
With girls having big dreams
Is Dragonnaire even a place?



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