The tan Khaya* kiosk where the soft-faced, busty girl-with-the-hair-like-a-wild-animal retails phone airtime is my final night-time stopover before home. It’s both for the card and the chance to hold her luscious figure in my glassy-eyed gaze and wistfully wonder “there is the love of my life in another world”. Last night I was late, the kiosk was closed and I thought she’d hurried home. Then, as I pulled away, the kiosk began to rock-n-bob, and I heard a gleeful girlie gasp. So, this was home.
*A type of African Mahogany tree