last night
i was intoxicated
by Lebanese food - baclava;
a chinese poem slipping
off thin paper &
singing loudly;
irish pipes fluting the
windswept stones
of connemara
around my heart
and
i went to sleep beside you
wakeful
to street rhythms
of greeks
stamping slowly
around me.
This morning
i woke to the sound of
sun shadows
distorted
by sunday lawnmowers.
