A NAME BY ANY OTHER. . .

She smiles in Russian.
"What's your name?" I ask her.
"Is Tina!" she laughs.

"Ah...Tina!"
"No not..Tina!"
"Istina!. . .it means...the Truth."

she winks
slinks as if she's
in inverted commas

her eyes the colour
of an ocean
now green now blue

hidden inside
her smile
(the kiss )

she disappears 'round the
corner leaving in the air
a perfect perfume replica of her

the grand piano
sits in its silence
dreaming of music