THE SANCTUARY:

Diverted into the sanctuary of the morning cafe, latin beats,
the shuffling of the elder statesmen of groove, inspired by
the memory of seeing the Buena Vista live, the grace & cool
of masters who perfected the skill of moving across a stage
like sexy angels, old boys with more youth in their linen suits
than lumbering frontmen 20 years younger. I remember watching
open mouthed, the grandmothers of Seville dance flamenco with
curvaceous gyrations, wishing I could move that good. I’m sat
at this table, my table, my morning sanctuary, taking good
orderly direction from the sound system, pen, paper, porridge
& tea, plugged into the electricity of groove & calm.

(K)