A Kilo of Cherries

Part of my 3rd year ofmy degree's poetry collection

I led you down the empty streets;
past white washed houses with shuttered windows
and half built swimming pools –
until we reached the desert – where you stopped;
unsure of the great space before you;
the end of civilisation.
You didn’t want to explore beyond
the safety border you’d erected;
you wouldn’t let me see the territory.

You took me to the market at the edge of the estate
where they sold fruit by the kilo, oranges by two;
you wanted the cherries.
The punters buzzed around like flies;
and were just as vicious.
We escaped with a chicken and the cherries.

We spent the afternoon in air conditioning,
taking cherry stones from each others lips
because the pool was out of order.