The Scientists

The scientists It is a tranquil winter day. I listen to a distant nose a dog barks, typical in Algarve, smoke from chimneys go straight before disbursing and disappearing. A few clouds drift about like wedding dresses of the unmarried. The sun is a golden coin captain Hook would kill for. I smell grilled sardine, the opening and closing of doors a cat sits on a wall watching me. I go into a café, three scientists talk about Mars, until one says let us talk about marine biology. The other two laugh. Do you mean grilled sardines? They are theoretical physicist and thing they are bees’ knees. I drink coffee, eat a Napoleon cake. Drive home, it has been a good day when the phone rings I don´t bother to answer it.