Recalling.
The ghost of memories
is visiting me again.
He brings cheese and wine and cigars to please me.
That is just because he knows he is not always welcome.
His conversation often is about things that sometimes are
unpleasant things.
But tonight his telling is most fortunate.
He is reminding me of the times past at sea.
The times past at the mountain.
The times past at those lost newfound cities.
The times past at those ”boîtes de nuit”.
The times past with those wonderfully beautiful female companions.
The times that feeling alive is an adrenaline rush.
The times feeling alive…