He left the kitchens every night

by scooter back to bedsit

many stairs to the top of the house

his only rise in life.

rear view mirror Park Lane

headlights

dreams of

cyprus.

Enraged, he pressed in the light, ascended the stairs

past doors for other lonely folk

sickly glow a ray of hope for

career advance.

All around his life a threat of Akrotiri,

love losing its grip by sheer removal

the hills losing him and people he would never meet

celebrating life in the sun.

 

The kitchen always survives,

service with a bitter smile

for the paying customers

who with champagne always go that extra mile.