New polyester backseat… You
look out the window and there appear: small sections of sensuous rolling hills far
away high rises straighten their backs
The air is hot and sticky, oh! You drift through corridors
Melting off licks of summer rays
You recall lonely walks in stench of alley ways.
You love the vine leaves’ sharp cast shadows
Like edges of buildings
Their movements like lenticular billboards
Remind you of home! – Of fluorescent halos.
The scent of flora crawling the lattice
light in the air you feel
as liquid as The Sky
A young boy watches on from behind a green rubbish bin three quarters his height you’re foreign here – he does not mind
you’re seventeen and not so serious –
Bodies bare on the beach to sink,
you lay him in this clay-like grit.
24K Gold Rita is his drink!
Oh! What pleasure! What luxury is beauty!
You take the hand within your reach
Lead him down for kisses in caves
Coughs of dust from streets above the beach
Behind the roar of holiday waves
Again, lurid polyester backseat
Memories in mouth taste bitter-sweet…
The hot sticks like plastic to sweaty skin
That boy, the clay-like grit you lay him in…
You look out the window and there appears:
Waves in those sections of sensuous hills rolling.
Smog of the intercity like a cigarette in two lips –
Tulips – Two hips – Two ships –
And those same waves wrapped around the steel of a cruise-liner.
Text by Elaine Tam