1 January 2025

I'm cold

but

I'm sweating 

 

Jeff’s in Amsterdam

Al’s in Portugal

I’m in France

Christ they say

was born thousands

of years ago

so we drink

and eat too much

I knew a guy

who went from Paris

to Amsterdam to buy

a bunch of coke

for his 70^th birthday

brought it back

and died of a heart

attack

 

I know this road

and my way to Ales

but driving in this fog

anything could happen

the white horse 

is grazing in Bagard 

the hawk preys 

from power lines

the sky is dead

the people are cooking

children are annoying 

in Anduze the river floods

every year now

Next week’s winter

sky’s dead drizzling

vines bare trees still

autumn russet grass

green but not growing

it is almost Christmas

in the village a market

the people are smiling

coffee at the cafe

waiting for sun

to warm the terrace

the Cevenole know no

less than the seasons

praise the Cigales

when they return

Christmas more

than a day a birth

I am here and nowhere

like New York

Copenhagen Amsterdam

Lisbon nowhere else

she sleeps I soon

will sleep in Spain

windy days the sea

waves Sundays

the people breakfast

at the bakery smoke

cigarettes over coffee

children loose in the streets

it’s almost as if unto us

a savior is born

but that’s why I’m here

the last thing I need

is saving the first thing

to be left alone