'Beyond the sunrise
where the black begins' -
& the lights of the city, we
imagine, twinkle or blaze . . .
are the best: beautiful, quiet
I sit in Caron’s & my chair
the one we share, at the desk
What to do
when the day’s heavy heart,
the ice in my glass goes crink!
as it adjusts to the tequila — keying in
that sophistication — the feel of it — I associate
Does all art aspire to the condition
of music? — While someone
is always prepared to say so I put on