I remember my street
Down the road was a coven
Dragonnaire was their was haven
Where all whores look forward to
They walk around
With long eye lashes and painted nails
Different colors of rainbow on their body.
A place where dreams are met
A haven where lives are forgotten
We get to watch young old ladies
Walk around naked
Flaunting their dead assets
Fallen breasts and sagging yanshes
They even roam about,
For the pleasure of us viewers
Anybody could go in and lay with them
Even a dog with a coin.
They would pull their pants
Smell it, wash it
And spread it outside.
I remember the men in big cars
Who wear expensive kaftans?
Who will park and look around
Cover their faces and rush inside
Do their business and come out
Then the fights would begin
Who the man winked at
Who he serviced most
To the view of the general public
We would run from my house
Down to the street
To watch clothes get torn
Bald get their heads exposed
We would laugh at their stories
Of how the man’s thing was too big
Or too tiny
Of how they came to Dragonnaire
Of how poverty dragged them down
Of how they got raped by their uncles
And they gave up.
Before you know it
The fight would be over before it began
Dragonnaire, beautiful girls wasting away
Talented ones rotten and spoilt
I tell you it’s pissing off!
Is Dragonnaire even a place?