Tuesday, August 2


Over spanish shores
my mother & I
sup gazpacho

the hot dishwasher
-white bowls
collided in chopped

tomato pepper
cucumber onions we
shovel spoonfuls—

In peace our sun-
skin the mechanical
cool & sup gazpacho

)off out work’s
late night the
cornershop greets

through all the
coloured packs of
endlesses & drab

: a pot of gazpacho
organic & all
I purchased for

memories , but
at home, among
alone summer steam

stuck underwear
busy fruitflies about
down I to eat

away the tired
day with retired sighs
& lonely—

the gazpacho
out-of-date, a week ,
tomatoes soured.

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