Off you go
Here I stay
As of before
As of today
On your own
To browse, to buy
Love of gift
As God walks by
God walks by
Off his impressive boat
His stance is pied
His manner aloof, afloat
The bus, as we are on
Goes this way, then that
A two-stage marathon
In a beach-boy hat
All that we see
Is that the drizzle is fine
All that is free
Is there, beyond the no-entry sign
Clouds
Breeze
Broken bracelet
Year
On year
After rebuilding
Nothing is
As
Nothing ever was
No Americano
No cigarette
No shadows of life
Mother
With daughter
With granddaughter
Hand in hand
Arm
In arm
It is a super-yacht marina
Harbour Moon is berthed here
The Triasmapi company
Continually ferry to Formentera
How could he not
Have an iced Martini
Or a line of cocaine
Or something surely stronger
Yet there is no sign of a party
Nor of lunch being taken
In fact all is still, except
Another ferry departs
I remember Puerto Buenos
A Russian oligarch, and an
American, who made Kennedy’s
Wife into Jackie Onassis
They were as if in competition
Pulling in alongside each other
For the spit, for the polish, for the obsessions
To be fastidiously applied
In the cathedral
Of the castle
In old Ibiza town
With San Juan Pablo
Or Saint John Peter
To you, to me
A happy looking chap
With a rod, with a wave
Wearing a golden gown
His place built by cheap labour
Slaves most likely
According to my friend
Who I must say is not one
To give good grace to the church
In any circumstances
And after climbing all those steps
Struggling up those steep cobbled inclines
There is little or no chance of forgiveness
Almost all alone now
The inner pool, the warm zone
Mine; all to my self
Yet not for too too long
For the steam room calls
Then the aromatic shower
Before to go outside
Lay on the sun-bed
Sip ice-cold water
Alone now
In the courtyard
With the olive tree
Which must be so so old
Judging by its trunk detail
Also by the mass of its girth
Myth, or mass, or mirth
Are all then that’s left
Of the final test of the mind’s body
