Shit! At the blue cafe
Ah, Love! Could thou and I conspire
November 11, 2003
The Iranian
Full of salted sardines she fell back on the blue fitted sheet
after unreasonable infatuation revealed by clear stars on Gabriel
Miro Avinguda with crisps goodby slut untouched.
Black tee with
breast in white lace bras, she shut the street door with a groan. A
fast flash from Khayyam. So what!
Gave Sven chocolates to Ivan at the Doggy Shop with eyes open
in cold blood fickle penny wise and pound foolish closed for a
week
to enter winter junk.
Bought a staw hat for Margaret for taking her twice told the tale
on Sunday a wet blanket with pearl earrings caught napping in her
X Mazda convertable her straw hat blew out the window.
Blood on footprints in the sand. She glad to hear way to
misery, violence deeper barbarism heavy shit undiluted squalor
and another thing Picasso painted her crying on a blue chair.
Ah, Love! Could thou and I conspire. She took it seriously
imagine muslin whitewashed desire.
Saturday stretched out pale-orange and rose shadows under the
orange trees limiting the day's palette to desayuno at the Arte
Cafe fluttering
rags put out to dry at the window.
Not even a cat on the roof where like Budhist flags green with
white crescent moon and white with red cross bet on a parade on
17 October.
Smouldering Spanish gazing at their unconscious reflections massed
arm in arm obsessed by fires dirty sex the secret of rejuvenation
had only one firplace to flash it.
A tiny fountain or two with blue tiles eau de nil turning turquoise
bikini ochre tong stuck with a halter top rear filled with foliage. Green
leaf on soft sand unfaithful discreetly.
But after all Baba recited Firdowsi when there was nothing else
to do in the rocky desert of Bakhtiari on the roof clutching a
verse or two into eternity.
Seagulls waited in the shallow sea for fish. Transfusion
of pain felt as usual at night. Khayyam took the shot which
at night caught her neatly in his noose of light.
A secret watch fob in his pants, soft navy felt hat, narrow brim,
dented crown, on the back a snap, full of crap naked erection on
her lap.
No se she said sliding down the hill she carved the name PERSIA
on the orange tree - &%$!? - unborn tomorrow dead yesterday
in old Calpe. Fudge he f----d her.
Shit! she said kiss me we're just getting started spell Saturday
pulling on her fishnet stockings another beer she kissed his dick
he said hasta la vista at the Blue Cafe, she said shit!
Funny how time slips away.
SHIT! - &%$"!?ø - ESPANA
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