fierce
   fierce
blows the wind
   across this island
   off the coast of Africa
  
sittting on the ***** of a volcano
I keep listening to the sound of things

street signs clatter to each other
empty beer cans roll noisily
   through midnight streets
doors keep slamming
   to make their presence known
plastic bags hiss airily
and fly away
   like they never thought
   they could

the ears
of the little dog that thinks
   I am his master
stand at odd angles
while he is grooming himself
   on my lap

warm bodies
in a blustery place

the patio chair
   scrapes its way
   across the tiles
   inch by windy inch

my wine slushes in the glass

I share fiesta music
   from half a mile a way
   coming to me
   in gusty fragments
and almost feel the rush
   of low clouds chasing each other
   under a star-studded sky

here I am
on the ***** of a volcano
listening to the sounds of the world

                  * *