i descend the stairs
with my hands tied together.
it is you that i
fear most.

we sit down on the steps
of some chinatown palace,
devouring turkish delights
& sipping coffee. you smoke
your cigarettes in a chain,
showing me how to roll them
just so.

on sunday i catch buses
with my best-friends. we
stuff our pockets with
chocolates, whittle away
the hours in a book shop.
i buy a trashy magazine
rectified by the fact
that it is french.

i walk down to the gazebo
which waits by the harbour.
letting my latte go cold,
doing the crosswords &
dreaming that i
am someone else.

one day
i will be
someone else.