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Again, I see her after the trolley shudders past.
Smiling, she looks towards me – a breeze has caught her black hair.
My eyes trace the red silk that marks
her elevations and depressions
and I lust.

I lust, I lust, I lust like the tailor standing behind her.
His hands grasp a tape measure,
raise it as if to ensnare her.
His lips offer a giddy, guilty smile.
I want her and her tailored dress
and her tailored office solutions –
yes, yes, yes, office solutions.

Perhaps, a prestigious Central address
with support staff in Shau Kei Wan.
Solutions that will grow with me
as my business grows –
fitted like a tight red silk dress.

The stop light turns green
and I don’t really need an office
and bits of her look odd
as if Photoshopped by a fourteen year old –
voice cracking as he did her hips.

She looms above me as I cross the street,
but the momentary flare of testerone
has dissipated like bus exhaust.

Yet, we will meet again and again and again,
and my eyes will obey the command of hormones
until my brain insists she’s just an advertisement
who’s breasts jut at unusual angles.

Yet, while the light is red,
I will lust for tight silk
and yearn for a harborview office.

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