In awe of aloe

She bares her dragon teeth
clawing the wall
razing her neighbours;

the palm tree bows,
the ivy prostrates.

Wherever the light touches
is mine says the aloe,
and like afro hair she
scoffs at gravity
laddering her way to heaven.

Start of Autumn in Paris

Sat outside a bar near Pigalle,
with autumn painting the earth
caramel and sky lilac,
the space between is a sweet wrapper
sticky and crisp like toffee,
bartenders get us drinks not on the menu +
we talk about the French and how they stare,
how they hold eye contact two seconds too long
how they say excusez moi after they’ve
flung you across the metro
and how the women are pencil thin and the men straw,
we laugh. and in between gunshot mopeds and
bicycles with tiny baskets, we see congregations
ebb and flow and we stare too long.