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Tapa notebook, Oct 2007.



21/10/07:  Mexico City


I am not good at judging distances,
the time it takes to cross the city.

Gathering questions in a foreign tongue,
understanding nothing but cemented into

this living, a priest to his congregation.
Sometimes through fire, in alphabetic order

or perched beneath a tabernacle,
coloured glass  a mountain high.

Stone flecked with earth. We cross
and re-cross the broken cobbles,

negotiating touch about this
rough city of clues.

123456
7
89101112
131415161718
192021222324




Brian Flaherty