We came upon slowing traffic,

and stooped to stare

at the dancing distance

of a baked road.

...

Our eyes were wet and stung.

The metalled road blazed.

Our approaching gaze silent.

We released our pent breath.

The border had done what most borders do-

shrugged us through.

We walked past sun glassed

​occupants of cars and the

​rolled-up sleeves of lorry drivers,

​passengers of crammed busses.

...

Post script: Later that afternoon,

Jez turned to me and asked,

"Is this what it's like to be drunk?"

I sipped from a glass I held,

I smiled as I slid my glass towards her...

...

words and foto T Carroll

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