poem by Deborah A.M. Phillips

August 1, 2011

We said we’d go to Paris - instead
somewhere between the summer and fall,
you found a way to improve your taste
for languages by flying to China
while I escaped to the hear of Africa.

Here’s a toast to independence
I tell the bloody nose warthog
who snots outside my door
after fighting all night

Here’s to going solo down the Nile 

and peeling hot oranges in a lowry
while letting my imagination drift
past great white pelicans
to river banks decked with bright beaded
women gathering exotic edibles
Here’s to changing with the times
and wandering through the rain forest.
Forget about starry nights
or strolling le Champs-Elysées
the lizards crawling over my portal
are alive and colourful

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