In his proud saunter
The thick of his thighs
His playful subversion
His produce department
negotiation
In pots filled with opiates;
Tart and butter
Crisped sheets of rice
In the blackened room
a digestif of
a digestif of
A quivering voice
Sway of souls
folk meddling
In the glisten of morning
and choice chaos on the walls
In her concern for
that day's passing patron
his wet hairline
his uncivilized plastic
rejected him in public
In his ceaseless story
His sharp dissections
His sensitivity
In a stranger's words
my unearthed mother tongue
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