'is better/than the one/I come from...'(Barcelona Farewell)
she wear the fat belt
she meet my eyelid
she draw her butt cheek line
so dark & close to my own
dead & gone edge
she hold the crowd back
she keep a friend cool
she trigger-happy looker
wearing my own
stolen heart of gold, dear
--on cuff-linked sleeves, dear:
surrender, dear eye--
you do remember, my eye?
let's think & sink a-gain
--you try my recall 'gain, dear
she sit on blow clean slate
she squeeze my mem'ry gland
she march all night on lace-white
friends all grown so old
before our time
(she foreign spectate, or-
correspond to speculate-a-dress
in my mind's eye, only--
argue come to blows again)
(Arc Café, November 2003)
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