albino angels
( la jonquera / valencia ’62 )
bells peal
on an old rope & señor nin
starched collars / high
on th throat
like ‘ bat’s wings ’
stamps my passport . . .
but
i am lulled
by th curious sound
of spanish trains . . .
a little girl
with a hoop & a stick
is pushing the world around
beneath the pyrenees
/ is perhaps there still !
where 3 albino angels
climbed stiffly
from a volkswagen
wearing dark glasses
looking like mountains !
where françoise met her maker
for the first time in 15 years
disguised as her father
&
later / went swimming
with her unborn children . . .
where glass jars in cafés held
within their clasp
multicoloured shellfish
without their shells . . .
where a 303 cop in a cardboard hat
showed me a beautiful / dirty picture
then tried to arrest me
for bringing it in to th country !
where a young whore sang ave / ave maria
while she screwed
later fainted
at th bullfight
where most men resemble bulls
& women guitars . . .
where callow army recruits drilled hopelessly
in th main streets
wearing sand shoes & 1942 / alan ladd / twill trousers . . .
where a thousand men with short handled shovels
demolished a mountain in a fortnight . . .
where i died of a broken heart
having lived on sugar alone / for 3 weeks
where i tried to make love on a bicycle
at precisely 5 or 6 in the afternoon
achieved only th slow leak . . .
where th crazy wooden cathedral is stoned
out of its christian mind / day & night
night and day . . .
like crafty franco . . .
ay !
barcelona
barcelona
where ALL THINGS were possible
&
th world ws real !
©David Mitchell
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