Pure desire rolls over you in waves
gripping your heart till there’s
an acerbic taste in your mouth.
Not of jealousy, no.
But of the knowledge that
it’s something you really want but cannot get.
Pure desire is looking at people walking
along Shenton way, FiDi, the city
in black coats and knee-high leather boots
a black bag on one shoulder
a box file in one hand…
Pure desire is watching two people
next to each other, gazing at glaciers
one head resting on a shoulder
an arm looped around the other
Pure desire is looking at the pine trees
in the snowy forest.
And thinking, just thinking…
Pure desire is seeing people cheering
while you watch them behind the TV.
Pure desire is just desire. Hopes. Not reality.