© Farouk Asvat
The homebrew serviceIs brisk and frisky:
Workers hurrying to the station
On the cold misty evening
Stop to chat awhile
Throw furtive glances
Upon the moonlit
dancing upon the tarred avenue
The corners of their minds
Looking out for the men in blue
As they exchange hard-earned cash
For a homebrewed carton of respite
Gulping a quick drink
Before they hurry on
To their bleak townships
On the other side of the city.
Then it is quiet.
Later,After the bioscope crowds
Have left in their cosy little groups,
The rotund homebrew mamma
Welcomes her next round of customers
To lighten her ten-litre drums of concoction:
The watchman in his stinking overcoat
Wielding his knobkierie and tribal scars
Reminiscing in a desultory manner
Upon the lost glory of a distant past
About his wife and children so far away
In the valley of a thousand hills.
Later, much later,The queens of the night
Emerge from their furtive hovels
To share their familiar camaraderie
With the lost souls of the city
To drink another carton of forgetfulness
Together in their loneliness
© farouk asvat
composed: 1976 [Central Rd, Fordsburg, Johannesburg, South Africa under apartheid]
Homebrew Service was previously published in:
The Wind Still Sings Sad Songs (piquant publications, p67, 2006).
© farouk asvat. All rights reserved.
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