Beautiful African woman, standing with her back to the street in a luscious canary-yellow dress. She is facing the vast windows of a display of swank cars, why? The windows rise away into the night above her head like an airport. Ah, I see. Beautiful African man, whom I didn’t see until he moved, in the dark, standing with his back to the car he has chosen for dreams, she has her phone up, he is posing. They are built like gods and light the night. I walk past with my head down, my hands full of posies of stolen plants roots and all gleaned from the gardens outside the shopping centre which I plan to propagate rather than just steal, beautiful in my way.
Tag: border protection
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stolen man
An African guy who lived in the apartments near me had the warmest smile always courteous and would wait on the pavement if I walked behind him so I could go by was taken away by police, five weeks ago I think, and the pot plants on his verandah are dying and now there is no cooking the evening meal on his tiny barbecue and no whistling to himself and singing as he pegs out his wash, always neatly, always pairing the socks, alone.