Robust, the autumn sun shines cold, through a blue-sheet sky. Sunday afternoon, we lie sprawled across the couch, washed over by our own...

Saturday night. I catch the last metro after a night of gypsy jazz and raspberry beer and sink happily into the corner seat of a square....

When I look back there is nothing but sun: the welcome oppression of a Bombay noon, its beating rays angling in, and I, foetal-curled...

We dug our claws in like two cats in opposing Parisian windowsills sized each other up, across the tin roof that divided us. Like cats on...

Indira is Nepalese. She has a round, white face like the moon and caramel eyes that twinkle when she smiles her Cheshire-cat smile. She...

I roll out of your still-asleep arms and walk to the kitchenette, rubbing my eyes. Sleep hangs heavy on my lids, but my arms move...

A hot day, and I’m late. I rush into the metro, lean against its cool metal poles and tap my feet impatiently to the music in my ears....

Nascent moon peers out of blue unblemished but for a cross. We sit beneath searching for syllables breathing grass counting buds in...

If you are a woman, you know it doesn’t take much to fix yourself up. Make-up to hide your lines, define eyelashes, cheekbones and lips,...

She lunges at me, the tall black girl standing against the closed doors of the metro. It’s that time of Saturday night when anything can...

There are many ways of looking for a poem in the metro. You could be a reader of its Lignes et Rimes Four-line instalments scissored out...

Beep. The doors to the metro open. One of the women who walk in instantly catches my eye. Her face is like a cloud, all round and soft....

I’m only two metro stops away from my home, but it’s cold and I’m feeling lazy to walk the distance. I descend the stairs at a run, and...

There’s nobody at the metro station. It is late on a weekday, and the only souls in sight are one cleaner on each platform; people who go...

I rush through the serpentine corridors of the metro to get to line 4 in time to catch the last train home. It’s late and I’ve had a few...

1 Just the other day you bedazzled me again, Turned me into a child-tourist, Gaping with wonder at Notre-Dame Under an impossibly blue...

I lumber into the train and hasten to the corner seat automatically, the only place where I can lean my head and doze off at the end of a...

She comes running on to the metro platform as if from nowhere, aware of the movie-like quality of her entrance. Her hair is brown and...

"I like poems that rhyme", you told me, proceeding to explain some obscure kind of French quatrain that was beyond me. It was a cold...

The early morning frost Is settling on leaves, cars, benches Three trails of airplane-smoke Shoot across the sky The smell of hot bread...