A Chat With A Vampire Ii Poem by robert dickerson

wrinkles. You are just now beginning to see'. 'And his favorite dish'? , I asked mischievously-'not exactly to everyones' taste'. A shadow of annoyance passed across his face. 'Mine are not the tastes of the great Unwashed'. Well, what did he mean by that, I wondered, a little miffed. 'What do they know of this love I bear them? What do they know of true feeling, of the beauty compared to which a rose is a radish, heavenly cologn skunkly'? Skunkly? The guy was complex. I smiled a stillborn smile. 'And the bed of earth'? 'That was his business. Observing me narrowly he fell back onto the couch of plum-colored damask. 'Did he ever feel himself in danger? ' I asked. It was his turn to smile. 'Eh bien, oui', he shrugged, forgetting himself. 'Mais la vie est pleine du hasard, n'est pas? ' Not speaking French I had no idea what he meant, but I remember his words distinctly. 'Did he miss the old days? ' ''Oh yes, he said, with the first sign of vigor: the flowing Moldau; the baths of Baden; the shimmering Bodensee; running with the wolves, laughing, leagues beyond the flares and shouts of the villagers, below-yes, of course, who wouldn't? . Moonlight over the
ancient cemetary in Praha; the women of Sofia; old Vienna-(he'd