The Relief Poem by Lay Rite

Sweat soaked shirt, suite and all
He shouted his driver to halt
Without waiting for the Honda to completely stop
He impatiently and violently flung the door open
Jumping haphazardly out, into a small mud.

Running not unlike a mad man in frenzy
But more like a young boy running away from danger
Knocking down everything in his way
Without speaking to the haggard man at the door
He threw him #500 notes

Kicked open the locked door
With his shining Italian shoe
Nearly chucking off the cover
He sat almost with his pant on
Po-ro-po-po-po, they all came down.

He purged everything out in a minute or so.
Like a catholic just confessed by his priest
But more like a Freudly analysed person
He felt unbelievably relieved.
But the relief he got, only that place could give.
1st July,2011, Iwo, Nigeria.