"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



Go away rare butterfly   The construction Gods

have conspired to destroy our holiday   & I have

just been bitten by a deerfly   Left ankle bleeding

Chair now soaked after freak-rain   Turquoise tankini

damp + churlish against city-white skin   Rash setting in

Would that it were Tequila dripping from my chin instead of

homemade jam left on our bedside table at     The Little Inn  


Now we lumber down mainstreet lurching on cobblestones

& face a 45 minute wait for beer-battered goat    A pox on Mr.

Innkeeper  whose ratty little dog will soon begin to bark    You

can take your country jams   & shove them into a dark crevasse





Summer   2011

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