Dating and the Third World

The newsflash scrolls across my eyes:
"Drought Hits Africa."

I understand, dear Africa.

I myself am experiencing a drought of sorts,
Of warmth and love and tender flesh.
Of long, enduring glances,

Romantic and clichéd.

The dry season has been too long and I truly think I can empathise.

I do not mean to offend, dear Africa.

It is not life or death, like you.

My children, however, suffer too.

"Starvation in African countries reaches record numbers."

The swollen bellies of the children on the report,

They remind me of the swelling of my...

Desperate for the release from their suffering.

They need a successful date,

Even a one night stand.

Pushing morals aside to do what must be done.

For you, dear Africa, help is easier.

Noone judges your looks in order to give you aid.

You do not have to endure dancing in town,

without alcohol,

A sober penguin on land,

In order to impress.

If only girls used libraries to connect.

Swap digits.

Silence and the written word,

Speaking in volumes.