Rounded off, penned in
By the careless chattering
Of lesser city royalty
And aspiring champagne socialists
Clumsy-drunken
The five steps of composition
The evening staggers on
On in broken movements
As convoluted as it needs to be
Teasing arrangements
Simple as sweat on walls
Sixty solid years of cigar smoke
Precipitate in a glass
On a lung, under tongue
Inside an ear canal
If I died now
It would be as a big, bald man of sixty
Face down in a bowl of lukewarm linguine
French ‘seventy-five in my stiffened claw
Disinterested mistress by my side
My face a mask of contentment
Her menu masking embarrassment
finncargill.com 