The people in the annex
don't see me, don't touch me
Their avoidance screams at me:
We are not pitiful

We don't need expensive clothes
handmade shoes
arms full of beautiful friends
and the patronage of a VIP

We don't want keys
to a gated villa
the gleam of grand plans
and favours to hand out

Shivering, I smile
at the boy in the Annex
who serves tea and looks back to see
if I am paying attention to him

He reminds me
of something and somewhere -
of my emptiness
and of you