New polyester backseat… You  

look out the window and there appear: small sections of sensuous rolling hills                far  

away high rises straighten their backs  

    Sigh! Idyllic!  

  

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