call me a body snatcher, i don't mind.

to take yours and put it on my back would

make me flower. i could carry it to

cape town for the weekend and put you

down on table mountain among the mists

where the stones are wrapped in vapours and moss

and the blue hangs below earth in sunshine ripples,

happy ships seem small, warm, slow.

my island drifts in the wispy distance,

an untroubled place of tax free smokes

and coffee comes in near-liters,

the black men walk free. i would show you

to my world and i would never take

you back to where i won't be, the next day,

and then we would start our travels.

do not forget

do not forget, my love, at all

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