I always win.
When the baby has settled down into dreams atop my mothers breasts,my mother likes to read a small brown book.
I have tried to read it, but I don’t understand it.
All I know is there is a story of a God that loves,I am hoping I will meet Him one day.
I sneak out from the beige covers.
Creaky doors threaten to betray me but I bribe them with socks,they always keep quiet when I put socks under their feet.
It is always windy outside while moon glows when she sees me. I laugh and fix my stool right in the middle of the compound,10 steps from the apple tree, 17 steps from the generator.I don’t mind the dusty floor or nosy mosquitoes.
And the competition begins.
The fireflies gather to cheer me on,so that the stars are both above and beneath.
"Come on Moon!" I shout.
My throat is dry but I will have to drink,after I win.
We stare at each other for hours.
She is so soft and beautiful.
Not as the angry sun that gives
me rashes.
But he makes our plants grow. So I allow him to stay when he comes.
The compound dogs and cats gather to cheer me on,singing lengthy songs,frolicking around me,and the wind follows suit.
Every seven nights the rain comes to watch our great match,soon I will start charging spectators.
I will have to ask mother.
"I will not blink." I always murmur,I stare every night.
She always runs away with the hour hand that says six o clock.
He must be her lover. That is when I retire to my covers,before the baby wakes. I mark the wall with green to represent another win. I stare at the wall like a picture of grass, I always win.
I wonder what kind of socks the doors will want tomorrow.
