This morning's opening scene
- A sunrise over a salt marsh.
The opening theme
- A song quickly thrown together by some swifts.

On an island, a short ferry ride from Venice,
People come to look at glass and peep through lace,
Which is the inverse to what they do elsewhere and where the most beautiful women in the world come to buy gowns.

I am out of my league but am tempted...
To use words like 'haughty' and 'pert'.  The cloth fits.

Mallow grows here - a reminder of home and of a place where the women are easier - but at the same time...

more complicated.

Light drips like yoghurt from the lips of the clouds
and the day drifts away with the fairies.

She
drifts into my thoughts
wearing chiffon I think,
but I blink
and she fades.

a voice reacts to the sound that floats from the mouth of his radio,
'is that the time
or just a reminder that time's marching on?

and then it's gone,
no yoghurt
no time,
all that remains is
the reason to rhyme.

We all wanna be
he-men
G-men
but
some of us are
just ordinary
men.

and some are an omen.

Amen.

if the results of your negotiations
remain below the expectations
of your great leader

you better write your testament
say goodbye to your loved ones
and prepare for death
instantly or piecemeal
in one of those well known
penal colonies

whereto the great leader
relegates those enemies of the people
who fail to give himself
     and his good buddy Donald
the precious soundbites
they need to announce
over the global media

to demonstrate
their nuclear good will