A poem by GEORGE DENNIS.
Crooked diamonds across the café floor –
And before I could finish my coffee
Flutter the headlines around a little,
Smile at the ladies poking their pastries,
Scratch at the sore at the top of my neck,
Think of the puddles on the cobblestones
(The starlings swam within the pinkest sky),
Crack my knuckles with the pianist’s rhythm,
Watch Ms Flit pretend to be a widow,
And before I could ask for an ashtray –
I was lost in the delicate geometry,
Like infinite stairs caught
As one falls from the landing.
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