Slow strides

glide along cracked concrete

while we pass ancient ruins

under watchful construction

 

Our eyes inspect

open doors

chipped paint

Roman Catholic features

among numerals

and names

 

You pull me across the busy street

I follow

and lean in for a kiss

you don’t notice

and the buildings’ scaffolding

casts shadows 

under which we hide

until the sun hits our skin

just right

and I awake

dreaming again of this

bilita mpash