36 degrees

Seville
I saw Buk
on a bench
half asleep
one eye open
belly hanging over
half open trousers
& he didn’t recognise me
Or was it
when I saw Sartre
in Paris
hunched over his morning
noisette
& thinking
he was maybe dead
I forgot
Dali in London
in drag
faking a leopard
for tea
Hem in Pamplona
in drink
& forgetting
the point was to run
with el toro’s
in estefeta
and live
Bill Hicks in L.A.
who knew
all of this was a shroom trip
how the world would end
but like you
me
the others
still bought the ticket
took the ride

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