Market? Market

[Gomina Emmanuel]

Resplendent isles,
Goods of class and class of goods
Line up for inspection.

I walk, trepidation filled, through
The gauntlet of financial ruin.
They stare me in the face,
Daring me to touch.

My heart races home
To the market of my world
Where I pick, touch, examine
And haggle.
“50 naira” the trader spits out.
Indignant pleading “haba! Too much o! 30 naira”
“Ewo! I bought it 40, customer” she cries.
At an impasse or a bargain,
Goodwills are traded still
“God bless you oga”
“You go sell, nna”
At the isles,
Away from the journey of the mind,
Fidgety hands pick my goods,
feet wobble to the attendant.
Dull faced. Ears buried in crunk.
Eyes, rimmed glasses coated,
Roll in their graves rising
From the lurid screen and
Shoot at me.

“How much?”
Stout fingers point at the tags.
I give an uneasy smile,
Impassive stare returned.

Dollar minty bills depart my pocket
For the safe abode of the teller machine.
Goods leave my hands to lie in polythene membrane.
Dry ashen voice croaks “Thanks for coming”.