walked into the mountains (actually
rain: rain on path rain on dogs
rain falling in the bay through sun
direction of ie. towards the
fuming mountains (also, on crown
of Hitler Youth til slick) where the mist
(a kind of purple) clung or shrouded
whatever and (it fell on our faces and
hands) made to stop and go left
(pine release, very wet) at the fence-line
even though I didn’t see any military
personnel or smart bombs and correctly
identified the tiny bird that was flying
in the storm
when the mountain
was biggest (I saw a crane, you
a house, it was pouring) on the bypass
with four lanes two for local traffic
direction of ie. towards
Puerta Pollensa, Mallorca
January 2010
Tom Chivers 