Intermezzo
I was in Huelva in 1958, a poverty-struck town in Spain
there were Tivoli carrousels and all that
I met a beautiful gipsy girl barefoot in the dust.
We laughed a lot; I don’t know why and she kissed me
passionately in the park.
Her father came, he was grim, she cried, to mollify him
I gave my Ronson gas lighter, no one else on the ship
had a lighter like this.
The father was pleased but walked off with his daughter
and my lighter
That’s ok 40 years later, I stopped smoking
A Love Story 2
Huelva and the Golf of Cadiz and it was August and in the town
there were laud music and rockets in the air. I had met a gypsy girl
she wore a white blouse and a red long skirt she wore no shoes
her feet brown and dusty. Back then I smoked cigarettes- chesterfield-
they were supposed to be upmarket compared to Camel cigarettes;
even then I wanted to be different, a cook who could read
She admired my Ronson lighter it was expensive and no one on
the ship had a lighter that classy.
She clicked the lighter a few times how she coveted it, but I was
surprised when she suddenly ran away. I thought she ran for fun,
she would come back: she didn´t. Later I saw her she was with two
gypsy boys and I dared not say anything. I walked back on board,
borrowed a box of matches sat in my cabin smoking and dreaming
of her beautiful eyes.