i knew it when i decided to grab that uber home, 
feigning sleepy feet to hide an implosion.
to which you said, “i can tell.”

i’m still not quite sure if you were referring to
the fact that i had stopped dancing, or
to the fact that i was bifurcating right in front of you 
– the way hot glass does
when it’s plunged into something cold. 
everything shatters,
but nothing breaks. 

it doesn’t really matter now, since that uber arrived, and
i got into it as i intended to.
you had said, “get home safe,”
but not “let me know when you’re home.”
that’s when i kind of really knew:
this no longer feels like home.
but––

anyway. i was busy asking my driver if he’d had a good day,
and if he’d been driving cabs a while, and
if people ask questions like this all the time.
he laughed and said, “all the damn time,” 
and he laughed some more – with me or at me i’m not sure.
i laughed too, until some song or street or awful billboard
grabbed me by my throat.

the point is –– five people eating ice-cream just walked by.
yes it’s a hot day and gelato dreams are to be expected.
but what wasn’t to be expected is the fact that
i’ve no more use for the fact of your go-to flavour,
or the fact that it always melts, because
you talk too much, yet you’ll never choose a cup.
and that now i’ll have to wait for these memories to melt too.

because we aren’t going to stay in touch
– are we?

End

(2016) | Performed: Full Circle Art Africa, Hong Kong, 2017