Back In Maribujoc One Evening Last Summer

i look at the picture again
of old men and women
reminiscing their past
one evening dinner their
bald heads shiny on the
light the women with furrows
on their foreheads nicely
concealed by imported
cream, i listen a lot about
this conference of what
to do with poverty and
make the town alive again...

what i felt was this: ghostly
and ghastly, cold air by the
window, hushing, hungry
for attention.