Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived

Off premises. Nothing remained

But self- confession “Madam, I warned,

“I hate a wasted journey- I am African.”

Silence. Silenced transmission of

Pressurised good – breeding. Voice, when it came

Lipstick-coated, long gold-rolled

Cigarette- holder pipped. Caught I was foully

“HOW DARK?…… I had not misheard……

“ARE YOU LIGHT OR VERY DARK?” Button B, Button A, stench

Of rancid breath of public hide-and –speak

Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered

Omnibus squelching tar. It was real. Shamed

By ill-mannered silence, surrender

Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.

Considerate she was, varying the emphasis-

“ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?” Revelation came

“You mean –like plain or milk chocolate?”

Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light

Impersonality, Rapidly, wave length adjusted,

I chose “West African sepia”- and as afterthought,

“Down in my passport.” Silence for spectroscopic

Flight of fancy..