Fragments from our Spanish tryst
Crowding on my opposite wall
Like vapors from a morning mist
I see them rise , I see them crawl
Oh, you cannot see them
They are perfectly small
Like those shy red paisleys
On my black evening shawl
Remember?
The violin player and his Pekinese dog
The tired swallows wrapped in fog
The three old priests on their way to church
Sleepy little bats hanging from the arch
By the wine boutique
You don’t recall it at all?
How we waltzed in the warm wooden hall?
How I envied the wedding dress
On that Korean doll?
And how you loved her Oriental smile…
You…
Where are you now?
In that dream that’s lost in void
Or on that film that the sun destroyed?
