when I'll wave you from the other side
of River Cheploch,
and watch your form gradually fade away
into the beckoning Tugen Hills,
into the dark and cold embrace of a
former bandit
I'll then haul myself up the Kerio
escarpment,
listen to the silent voices of my
ancestors
jeering at how stupid I was
for making myself a disgrace in the clan
for letting the affections of a woman
turn my head around
when I get to my father's backyard
I'll hunch over a laptop and write you a
poem,
I'll write that I am gathering my bows
and arrows
to prepare myself for battle
to rescue myself from the world,
from you
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