A modern boutique hotel
Sepia tone pictures on the wall
Leather clad menus at the table
Sultry jazz music for wallpaper
Sat at separate tables, to begin
The cast iron posts and rails
That divide off the raised area
They appear to be authentic
Carry years of painted layers
Fixed down by torn headed boltsWe look away at the sea-view, to begin
Her long hair is dyed jet black
Straggly, but not in any way untidy
Sure, for sure to be authentic
The significant ring is on her finger
If you don't know me by now
You wont ever, ever know me
Elegantly she moves, to begin
Dressed entirely in the finest silk and lace
She makes slow passage to the ladies room
My watch drains towards eternity
Into the light the black clad mistress emerges
Floats on air past me without motion
Past me, on to the funeral directors parlour
Listen to the poem for free on SoundCloud by cliking anywhere on this text
