Sundays

On Sundays in the big smoke, a girl can choose to
wake up at 9 am, continue watching the movie she almost fell asleep
watching (Gone Baby Gone)

She can decide against having lunch with other people
in favour of herself

She can develop a craving for steak
and make a bargain with herself that if she is
going to treat herself, she must at least walk there

A girl can get out of bed at half-eleven
put on her high-waisted white shorts
and wander out in to the (blazing) sunshine

She can amble to Neroteca
and sit herself at the bar and order a cappuccino
she can read, she can decide she is hungry and order lunch
the decide between a bellini or another cappuccino
whether to order the pear, chocolate and walnut tart
as the conversation swirls around her in thick italian

She can then wander off to the bookstore,
buy herself Anna Karenina, because she simply must attempt
to read what is said to be the greatest novel ever

She can come home, bum in bed, play with music,
then get out of bed to meet someone she loves, who loves her
at La Bodega for two glasses of Vino De Sol
before watching Indy
she can enjoy the absolute throwback that indy is

She can have another glass of Vino De Sol
then tapau char kway teow
then come home to bed and think to herself
'hey, I am doing better'
because for the first time in her life, she has decided
to shed this image as wallower
and to gradually try and embrace moving on
to not hold herself back.