One look inside somebody's window – a stolen image taken from the cage we carry ourselves 
in anywhere we travel.  
Time of our lives dissolving like ice-cubes in gin and tonic, our histories – sweet meat melting 
in your mouth.  
Wrap your tongue around my heart, then suck it dry, do it wrong, do it as fast as you can, so I 
can catch your eye before checking out. 

Can you ever truly master the art of being a stranger in your own land, in your new land, in any 
land you cast your shadow on.  
The cell bars imprint on your childlike face.  
We might be dirty, but we are still more than virgins, no matter how many times our minds are 
put on sale.  
We might be jailed, but your plane flies further than thought, with a message of hope scribbled 
into its paper skin. 

Whenever we break out, dead drunk, heads full of blues, sweaty like pigs,  
a lost soul catches your paper plane and smiles.