Towards Better Democracy

Good words, well written, better the world. Good literature betters the world immeasurably.

When in South Africa


It must have been a holiday of some kind because the streets were deserted.

The land from the Highveld gradually slopes down to the coast taking miles to do this, as Nature does.

Durban was, and likely still is, the beach call to all in the country. A tourist spot. White pinnacles of hotels abound.

A girlfriend and her friend and myself were in my car – it can’t have been to the beach we were going – I hate the stuff.

Either way, there we were, in the glorious sunshine of midsummer, driving into Durban from an outer suburb.

There are roundabouts and robots as we drift down into Durban.

As I say, there was absolutely no one about. Church Sunday, I suppose.

Behind us appeared a fast, open, red American sports car. The fellow had his girlfriend, hair ablow in the open top, beside him.

Up he roared to the light, and halted with a squeal. On Green, he roared off again.

We have been driving at a leisurely pace and meet up with him at the next light. On Green the car stalls as he floors the pedal.

I say, out the open window,

“Excuse me, your horse is coughing.”

His jaw fell off his chin and his girlfriend assumed the look of an Adder.

Malcolm D B Munro
Monday 23 September, 2019

 

 

 

 

 

Filed under: art, English poetry, history, Literature, Media, mythology, poetry, songs, stories

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