Coffee in Nice station
Met
an elderly couple, or rather they met me
She had what it appeared a debilitating illness
She was very dignified, and he supporting her
and you could see a love shine through the age and distress
Maybe this was her swansong, who know's, a presumption
Yet she was full of grace and life.
she couldn't sit in a chair so she lay on a foam mattress, her coffee balanced
on her chest. I minded their stuff while they went off somewhere and I saw
her clear his face with her hand in such a tender loving way, and then they
held hands for a while. It was not sentimental or dutiful, just beautiful
and admirable - no admirable is the wrong sentiment.It was age old love, still
fresh and young, like newly kissed cheeks.
Back in the car and on to the road
I
am at Il Parco hotel near Grosetto
Amongst a hinterland, viewing across air ducts and flat roofs
My first still moment of the trip
An orange sun setting behind deep pines
as if to capture the scent
a light perfumed
a rich pigment
the moon thin crescent
towards an evening above trees
through a window - recollection and memory
in air
lessening light and memory grows stronger
this place
discovering another eden
like gaps in suburbia
the parks edge
going out
another place
voices in the dark
Cicadas
as loud as the traffic
- you forget that sound -
memory not as stored baggage
memory as an alive sense
I put my memory into storage
or read my memory as a book
as a recollection
as a re-animation
Sat in the restaurant of Il Parco
totally Italian
slightly gruff
no quarter from the waiters.
great
Giving way to words
but
in tandem
words through image
image through words
as
four mirrors inside a box
opposite and adjacent
same time
seeking a kind of poetry
laid
found
given
in-between
the pages of drawings and notes
my whim, my romance, my dreaming
like somnambulant mesmeric music
still time