on the second glance. No, not the first. That’s for fairy tales.

You were in my heart before I knew you were there, before I recognized you, a seedling strewn on the forest floor, ready to flourish

Over 20 paces, I unpack the history, Force the meaningless to vanish, slag The tailings onto an invisible pile. Like a pirate flag, a skull-and-crossbones

In Kensington market, full of small purveyors of meats and vegetables, of soaps and leathers, and roti shops, and pho restos, and bubble tea spots,

trimming curves from corners, you go through that door to find yourself on the other side. it’s not you but it may be you or