Written at Foyers

                       (for Romilly Waite)

Leaving that language of rancid scrapings

words taken with a spatula from limp tongues

in thick curds going almost to the apple

to the root of words

couldn't find a way into a way out

since then

                        some kind of cafe caterin’ to the

boulevard crowd

                        saw mr lee mr bones

waiter was peachie le nic,

marzo cream &

delicious took me intravenously through

their dimples

Of course dimples cafe caterin’ to

the boulevard crowd since then...

peachie said a collage

                        aye aye

man who cuts out dimples better look lean

else fat sleepy yawns will account

since then

unaccountably

peachie

presents accounts

peachie

a present

on account

a present from peachie

take this for instance

                  © Dick Russell, 2013, 2017