Entr'acte

The heat lays over voices
desert runways, empty save for old drums
and oil cans shimmering, belles lettres
calling on dust-devils
from the field flats beyond geometry
whirling little entr'actes just above grayish

begging for relief from
longing to soon rejoin
thinking it would be faster if

and take measure on the way.

The foreign legions that had stopped marched
stopped marched over the dunes
and away on summer campaigns
leasing their waterfront villas
to Buddhist monks on holiday
assured no further mail would be coming
the sunlight would not be allowed to spoil
and the grass margins kept trim

postmodern as the climate permitted
if one could afford to
there would be a receipt for
and all papers presented

)in the order of )in case it happened )and not a single

chalk line would exactly match
the wavy rooftops of Barcelona
drunk on )

)and giddy )with bad taste

the first sign: an ocean grown
so old and pendulous
that it might attack at any moment.


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