well combed, moisturized face,
and smelling of a fragrance from Italy.
with my features, I am
perfect mother’s son. The image of me.
have images of you in Paris somewhere,
leisurely breakfast, croissant and coffee,
writing or painting before
gentleman escorts you home.
then, that’s not the picture
out for you, my mentor.
were snared by the skilled,
hunt’s man and his peacock’s
military uniform and you
secretly given your family.
once cried for what could have been,
it shook my world at 5 years old.
now here I am, almost as old
you were then, that morning
our breakfast in tears,
my older sister comforted you.
here in Asia, I think of you.
write all I’ve done, ask how you are and
it to your Paris apartment,
of course, it will never be sent.
10 months are up and here we stand.
Aryan experiment completed now.
– ‘Fun, but it could never last.’
outside in the ice cold bullet February
she looks from side to side as if
walls of the houses stood in condemnation.
in a dark corner, around from her
she’d never let me in, her Asian
acquaintances could not know of her
boyfriend, ‘It just wouldn’t be right.’
secret, forbidden, hidden away it was
a real heart pounding, want to die moment.
saw her as she clumsily turned and waved
She couldn’t say goodbye, someone might hear.
home I marched, like my dad had taught me to,
myself to suck it up, like life’s persuaded me to.
the corner shop buy, dirty booze and dirty cig’s.
friend and I make a toast to all the fish in the sea.
is panic in a place of work.
run but most stand by
dumb frozen shock.
gray, mature man dies
in paperwork. Fits and foams.
becomes numb and watches
feet twitch for the last time.
of the places they’ve taken him.
little boy toddles by him
with his tiny legs, red shoes,
climbs the stairs of the house
he lived in as a child.
eyes don’t close, they cloud over
is a peace he’s never known.
fades to black then for a brief
everything becomes clear.
am teacher, large and strict,
forever student, skinny and gray.
play pranks on the nerdy boy
I catch them and break it up –
them, and their leader, myself.
at the boy with his dark eyes,
he sings my praises with mouse’s voice
finally having saved his dignity.
one night stand that I was looking for
now wasted 4 months of my life.
looked beautiful on the dance floor,
all different on Tuesday afternoon
she dumps a large box of condoms
the shopping trolley. She says,
costs less when you buy more of them.’
great.’ I say behind her back
making a gun with my fingers.
kill her, then blow my own brains out.