(for Steve)
Here in Sardinia
on a brief junket,
I soak up the sun,
and listen to a woman
who tells of a love
that came undone,
and there in a golf club
(another brief junket)
somewhere in Sligo,
you sweat in a sauna
on the morning after
a long night before
until life says no more.
I hear it on the news
in the taxi back home,
and recall dawdling over
my continental breakfast
in a heat-drenched square,
while someone in a room
of wood and vapours tries
to give you some more air.
