We take our shoes off, leave them by the door,
And sit in batik shirts and khaki shorts
In Paul’s colonial house in Singapore.
These bungalows, called “black and whites”—the sorts
In travel ads: black timbered, whitewashed walled—
Raise ghosts of Empire dealing imports/exports.
Tonight we expat businessmen sit sprawled
In wicker chairs along Paul’s wicker bar
Because a Bible verse left us appalled.