SHAKA’S BRIEF FLIRTATION WITH ROMANCE
One day he appeared at her door like an apparition.
It must have been his first and last attempt.
Bunch of flowers in his hand, some roses and chrysanths
clean smoke blowing out of the smoke machine behind him
and the universe dangling on ropes
consciously apolitical and shining.
It had cost a pretty penny, some serious logistics
and bloodshed, but his anticipatory pleasure
set its sights on the spectacle in her bed.
If anyone had tried to pull one over on him
at that moment, he would have stood his ground.
Knocked and then again and then again.
After some discussion it turned out
he was at the wrong house!
Laughing in disbelief, locals slid
down from the trees, windows were closed again
even the ladies from the drum band made an about turn.
He was led off silently
a decrepit barge in an immense canal
and people forgot about the whole business so that it
would never happen again.