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a city whose name is a river — journeying down the cheeks of a mother with sundry children. this city is an old mermaid, yet a virgin in her prime, with lecherous eyes — gleaming like the blue sunbathe sea. her pulchritude spellbound my eyes into a dazzled vision, i woke up in the boulevard of her portuguese lover to behold her shrouded mysteries. in this city of crowded histories, where hurrying feet run after the skyline like a masquerade chasing a lunatic over a pilfered naira note. here at the beach, prayers are freed butterflies — flying to heaven’s verge, the fishermen are aladuras immolating to the imaginary fishes, while they watch the wave clasps restlessly. amidst the tireless buzzing of busy bees haggling in the market, i saw the ghost of my dead neighbour hawking her dreams, i became a statue where I stood, wondering, who’s the alchemist of this el-dorado?