The city leans into you
She whispers and beckons
There is promise and light in concrete
Opportunity in glass
You came for her from the vast
Nothingness of your village
Air was free but so was your labour.
Here, in the claustrophopic night lit with strobes
Which bounce off you since you do not own them
Your labour is paid, your fingers grope
the few coins in your pocket
Feel their freedom.
Your fingers escape the pocket’s tight hold.
They pluck at your sweaty shirt to create space
Between your skin and polyester
The air offers you its whispers.
It will caress you, lull you to sleep
Till the night you cease to breathe.
The concrete leans into you,
Glass skirts strip you,
You are the dance floor,
Flat against the tarmac.
The stuck shirt, the coins in your pocket
The lights explore your body,
You have never known such lust.
published 17 May 2012