Suya by Midnight

Suya by midnight. Smoke rising.
The suya stand knows everybody's secrets.

(extra spice)

Every Friday, quarter to midnight,
same spot where the mai suya stands,
charcoal glowing like small planets,
newspaper wraps in waiting hands.
That's where I first saw you ordering —
"Extra spice, extra onion, no story."
A woman who knows what she wants at midnight?
My heart filed the report by morning.

The line moves slow, nobody minds:
good things burn on little fires.
I paid for yours before you reached —
you turned around with both eyebrows high.

Suya by midnight! (extra spice)
Smoke in the streetlight, you and I.
Two wraps, one bench, the city sleeping —
love done start where the pepper dey fly.

Extra spice! (for the lady)
Extra onion! (no story)

(suya by midnight)

Now it's our standing appointment:
Fridays, quarter to twelve, same bench.
The mai suya starts our order
when he sees my headlights turn the fence.
He put extra meat one Friday, whispered,
"For the day you go ask am proper."
The whole suya stand dey do matchmaking —
even the charcoal get opinion.

The line moves slow, nobody minds:
good things burn on little fires.
I paid for yours before you reached —
you turned around with both eyebrows high.

Suya by midnight! (extra spice)
Smoke in the streetlight, you and I.
Two wraps, one bench, the city sleeping —
love done start where the pepper dey fly.

Truth is, fancy restaurants get candles,
but candles no sabi your name.
This bench sabi our whole story:
first laugh, first quarrel, first rain.
When I ask you proper — and I go ask —
e go happen right here, by the smoke,
with the mai suya as my witness
and extra spice on the vows.

Eh! (extra spice)
Eh! (same bench)

(the charcoal knows)

Suya by midnight! (extra spice)
The mai suya don dey plan the day.
Two wraps, one bench, one question coming —
love done start where the pepper dey fly.

Friday. Quarter to twelve.
Our bench.

(extra spice)