SECOND NIGHT AT THE ANCIENNE BELGIQUE:
Awake in a sea of crisp white linen, sipping water in the dark
to the music of drunks glass smashing & howling in the narrow
cobbled streets below my window. The woman at the breakfast desk
smiles & pouts, asks for my room number. I wonder how many times
she’s hit on daily, who’s daughter she is that’s home somewhere
hoping she’s ok. It rains, we drag our bags to the bus, laughing,
buy more records at The Collector & Caroline, rare 70’s vinyl
& CD’s by Sleater Kinney, whose posters have haunted this tour.
(K)
Karl Hyde 