In the street below
cars gave way to pedestrians,
zebra patterns clawed my back
and you crossed over.
Black and white emotions
that needed no colour,
like a photo art study,
simple, yet effective.
The sound of escape subsided
in buzzing of squadron flies
bumping against the window,
trying to get outside;
we were getting in.
It wasn’t that the sex was safe,
or even the room private,
the window flew open,
breezed in the scent of baked bricks,
roof tiles that sidled over doors
opening to twilight.
This wasn’t the first time
I noticed the lasting aroma of home,
all that there is to offer another.
In the street below
cars gave way to pedestrians,
and you crossed over.
