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 heard of a guy
from Paris who went
to Amsterdam to buy
a bunch of cocaine
for his 70th birthday
brought it back
and died of a heart
attack
I know this road
but driving in this fog
anything could happen
Next week’s winter
grass green
not growing
almost Christmas
a market in the village
people smiling
at the cafe
the Cevenole know no
less than the seasons
praise the Cigales
when they return
Back in France after six months
in Andulacia it is cold the earth
is brown the sky is gray the leaves
smell dead and except for wind
silence I am another year here
Terminal two Lisbon
Amsterdam by lunch
one of those portraits
of some one you don’t know
on a wall in a cafe
could be Lisbon Amsterdam
of some one you might
recognize from Lisbon
Amsterdam
Saber sold hot dogs
on the Nieuwmarkt
lived across the street
couldn’t read
a little guy who brawled
in the red light bars
got him to Egypt ignored
his constant calls back
saw him last at the Zeepost
wouldn’t look me in the eye