FRIENDSHIP
20th.december.2015
Two bottles of wine later
he asked softly
‘so you like to write
in the style of Billy Collin?’
“yes” I answered
full of words
full of wine,
‘well where then is the dog
mocking his master
old country lane song
Paris under winter by a bridge
lost in an alley without bakeries
where is the moonlight by a hot bath?’
I frowned
he laughed, ‘just kidding’
he read my lines
one by one
scanning words strung by weak visions
phrases falling away as his deft hand
disabled my language of otherness,
‘let’s drink more’
poetry is a storm
an ocean of possibility
disaster and dream
egocentric in her gift giving
rogue wave
internal rhyme
friend to friend under her spells.
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