A wise man once told me that
The best love songs are the ones you can whisper to her
Let your warm breath kiss the insides of her ear
I’ve come to know a black woman’s lips as the most sensual
I weave my imaginary wand


Even Harry Potter is jealous
But even he can’t stop it,
My magic spews out
Like the explosion of a warm shower
And I imagine a kiss
Like the Blue Bulls and the Cheetahs colliding in a scrum
Like two Gau-trains French-kissing at high speed

I imagine your lips
And mine
But I still can’t have you
So I go back to the drawing board
And write your name
With my tongue
On steaming glass shower-doors
But I still can’t have you
So I’m glued to my window
Watching you treat the street like a catwalk
Much to Tyra Banks’ disgust

Won’t you loan me your love
Like the banks usually discuss
I feel like used bubble-gum
Lying helplessly on a pavement,
Waiting to get trampled on by your large heel
I feel as though God himself would kneel
If we were to kiss

Baby you can even fake this
Like actors
I can be your Tau
You can be my Ezweni factor
I can be your Altie
You can be my Paulie
Soos berge staan die mense in die agtergrond
Van my drome
Maar al wat ek sien is jy
Is ek n man wat op my eie kan staan?
Ek wonder?