the gift

Eyes shining, Genia pressed something into my hands.
Around us the Cafe Insomnia caterwauled with youthful chaotica.
I looked down.
A brightly wrapped package.
I undid the packaging.
And lo!
She appeared to have presented me with a portable CD player.
Tender is the night, as they do say in President Putin's school for hired killers.
A rueful smile creased my handsome features.
I doubted I would ever listen to this particular apparatus.
One of the problems with having a friend whom you think is an assassin working for the Russian KGB and intent on killing you, is that accepting gifts from her becomes something of an anticlimax.
"Thanks Genia," I murmured as soulfully as I could in the circumstances.
I examined the music box expertly.
I was wondering what part of it held the anthrax, or botulism toxin, or mini scorpion, or black widow spider, or cobra, or Polonium 90, or whatever it is the young sexy assassins are using nowadays.
Probably the earphones.
I peered at them.
They looked okay.
Gentle travellers of the internet, I know very little in life, but I am quite certain those earphones will never encase a finely honed preraphaelite Heelers' ear.
Although the earphones might be too obvious.
It's more likely the whole thing is a bomb.
"Would you like a coffee?" enquired Genia.
"I'll get it," I said hurriedly.
First rule of counter espionage: Don't leave her alone with the coffees.
I rose and made my way towards the counter, favouring her with repeated sweet smiles and many a backward glance as I sidled across the noisy cafe.
My sweet smiles like my oft repeated glances were the result not so much of hearfelt fondness as of a strong inclination never to turn my back on her.

invitation

forget the calls of woe and wealth

the wind is still

the ground rock hard

behold god's wonders

darkness pluming breath

the fields the fens the ditches and the stars

 

bold traveller come to ireland in the winter time

see the plough pitch and yaw across a jewelled sky

orion's goat wander back and forth

you'll say healy's was a trivial rhyme

but it brought me here

and i'm grateful just the same

nocturne

 

confucius he say

It's always a sobering moment in a young man's life when the most beautiful, artistic, intellectual, poetic, soulful girl with whom he's been getting on famously, suddenly says: "Have you seen the David Icke website? I think he's really on to something."

aung san suu kyi

a bird took flight from inye lake

her course lay west through the setting sun

over tangled fields and ancient streets

the ground beneath trembled as she passed

 

and soft it seems this royal night

that rich are we whose tears are shed

for she is free of inye lake

and tyranny is dead