DIAMOND SEASON IN GENEVA:
At the greasy spoon cafe we order bolognese for two, tap water,
black coffee & something without a name. Maradona watches over us
framed in blue, a face, a fashion from a memory. We talk about
the day & catch up on the past, I say,
“There’s a fabulous lyric at the other table”
A blind woman’s stories about her new boiler as another woman eats
potato chicken.
“It’s so slim, so sleek, now I’ve got room to fit my hoover”
She puts on her lipstick with two hands. Guiding the pigment with
the tips of her fingers, bright red & shiny, her face is radiant,
she knows what she’s doing, been doing it for decades. Her hair is
immaculate, she’s always here, that’s her table, she finishes &
leaves. I don’t see her go, I just feel the cold of winter laughing
through the open door.
(K)
Karl Hyde 
…and what about Elvis?
You said you could see him and god on the phone 🙂
To the sea, to the sea To the open arms Of the sea…