Jesse Ojuka

I see now that it’s all now. All of the smoked cigars, all of the bricks and bones. 
All of the rubber bands and tea. All of the dinosaurs. All of the report cards. The propellers out to sea.
The time Mark landed on his belly. Kicking balls by the beach at midnight. How many laughs choked us in Marks Volkswagen tight.
I thought I found my palace but that was just the lobby. We make gold jealous for hobby.
Imagine if instead of the juice filled grapes, each bite burst into a memory. Bite, the time I fell and got a scar on my wrist whilst running to the swing. Bite, the time I barley lost my virginity. Bite, yesterday when I frowned through the church service, prideful in my apathy towards pageantry.