Drifting around Kowloon,
seemed so ridiculous.
A bitterness turned
upside down,
with memories of love
peeling in plum rain.

In Sham Shui Po
you told me of a
new direction.
Of fingers glowing
through the night.
And the pleasures we
have been living.

At Quarry Bay, trying
to shelter from the storm-
just me and my shadow.
I told you of my thirst,
and an Englishman’s desire.

By Tsin Shui Wan,
and all those rich houses.
We talked about life
after the wars.
Of smooth hands touching,
and the magic of a
black haired woman.

And my soul migrated…
towards your dark eyes.