David Craig

					
					THE GOLDEN TRIANGLE

					A black fat cat sat

					In the seat beside us

					Looking down on the 
					brown

					Parched hectares of 
					his domain,

					Botswana or Zimbabwe –

					From thirty thousand 
					feet

					The old imperial lines 
					were meaningless.

					His skin was satin 
					matt

					Like Green & Black’s 
					dark chocolate,

					Enriched by a thousand 
					business lunches

					And sleeked by monthly 
					massage

					From Johannesburg’s 
					more expensive prostitutes.

					Somewhere over the 
					Limpopo

					He was telling us that 
					he worked

					In Development and 
					Outward Investment.

					On an earthen road 
					below

					A man of the same 
					colour

					And roughly half the 
					weight

					Has cycled twelve 
					miles into the forest

					For a day’s firewood.

					Now he is pushing home

					An enormous bundle of 
					fallen sticks and twigs.

					Somewhere over France

					Mr Development 
					proffered his card:

					‘Mr Adzuki Adyubayo

					70 Tower 700

					7000 Independence 
					Avenue

					HARARE

					Financial Services’

					What a shame that on 
					his version

					Of the Golden Triangle

					Mr Adyubayo

					Has had to fly 
					Economy.