Re-Reading the Savage Detectives.
In another winter you came to me. I was lost then.
As perhaps now. Lost in the nights that have lost
Their discipline. Errant children, out on the lash.
With me, a single parent, left to fret. You came to
Me then, on the eleventh floor, Wembley Stadium
Grinning at my rear window, Paddington bear
Goofing down the canal. You came to console,
Unbidden, the mystery guest, with your tired
Eyes and tequila prose. And now you’re back.
It’s the middle of a midwinter night and you’re
Riding pillion again, humming a tune so catchy
I can’t help but sing along, the Encrucijada
Blues. You’ll see me through these insomniac
Ciudad Vieja nights, just as you did then, the
Resolute beat of your words casting spells,
Luring the night to its false, gleaming, dawn.
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