I’ve got friends in high places. Friends whose names can only be whispered with a hint of awe, or chanted with a dash of fervor. Friends whose high stature I cannot gauge exactly because to an ant, even the table top is a high place. Not to insinuate that I’m an ant. I might be; really depends who’s looking.
I’ve got friends with dreams. Friends who dream and forget to wake up. Friends who tangle the dream so they fail to grasp it. Friends who pine and whine for lost dreams. Friends who wine and dine with waking dreams.
I’ve got friends with the corporate twang. And friends with the ‘News at Nine’ twang. (Don’t you know? There’s a difference!) I’ve got friends with the jua kali lingo. People who pimp up cars worthy of parking spots at Villa Rosa and yet never get to share the spotlight. I’ve got friends with the changaa slur. I know, I know… I’m shocked too that addiction cuts right across the highness of your loft or lowliness of your makeshift home!
I’ve got friends in high heels. The stuff of Gucci and Prada. Straight off the runway or the flea market. I’ve got Friends in sneakers. They just love doing it or kicking it or dunking it or you know. ..whatever people in sneakers do.
I’ve got friends in Shukas, with spears to boot. Friends who wear tyres for sandals and drink their milk straight out of the cow’s udder.
I’ve got friends who wear Afros because kinky is so ‘right now’. Friends who lock it because redemption is a song that frees the roots of their hair. Friends who straighten it because we all want to be Rapunzel. Doesn’t matter how impossible that pipe dream is. That’s just your opinion. Hair will grow or hair will be bought!
I’ve got ballsy friends. Friends who live on the edge. Friends who club hop without a cent to their name, sending friends scampering because a leech is only fun the first one hundred times! Friends who party hard and post photos of six figure bills. Friends who scuba dive and friends who sky dive. (I’ve always wondered though – if it really were sky diving, shouldn’t they be diving toward the sky, not away from it?)
I’ve got friends who live on Facebook and leave nothing out. Friends who take ‘Keeping up with the Kardashians’ to a whole new level of keeping up’! Except their diamonds are fake and their lashes are fake and their butts are…wait…I don’t really know what am saying any more! I guess they really are keeping up with the Ks.
I’ve got friends with poolside bodies. Friends who make me want to keep mine covered as zealously as I want to get theirs uncovered. I’m so conflicted right now…thank heavens for the cover of art or is it the art of cover! I can pretend I’m not actually crushing on that hot poolside trainer of mine. I’ll be like “whaaaat? I was just goofing around…but if you want…we can just get this kissing stuff out of our systems. No? I was just kidding anyway.”
I’ve got friends as timeless as time. Friends I wish could live forever. Friends I hope will still be friends in the next life. And the life after that. Friends I’ve lost. Friends I’ve walked away from or watched walk away. Friends I’d call back or run to if only my pride wasn’t worth the two cents on my chipped shoulder. Friends I can’t find because they are just lost in this haystack of unsocial media. Friends I’ll find in this very haystack. Friends I’m yet to make. Friends I will make in this (how-dare-I-call-it-unsocial) media! Friends I fist-bump today.
Friends I hope, will bump back.