422

422

DUKE ELLINGTON : Day Dream

It is after the third cup of tea, in the interval

Between the entry of four German girls

On a foreign exchange and the exit of one

Old gent in a mantle of pink suede, as

A momentary hush has fallen over the café,

That I realise I have wound myself up

In a situation from which there can be no

Extrication; that in a real sense events have

Conspired to overtake me. I stare mildly

Into the teacup, and I know that I am lost.

Nonetheless, I assure myself, the clatter

Of cutlery and crockery will resume within

The moment, and the movement of traffic

On the other side of the pane will resume

Within the moment; the whole arrangement

Will resume the clear chain of its sequential

Action, and when it does so, my thoughts

Will not be so maudlin and confused, and

Somehow it'll all make up. I'll root around

In my pocket and find money for the tip :

Oh yes, I think with a weak smile, wait only

One more moment and the tableau will

Recommence to move, and as I am accruing

Courage to gesture to the waitress, an angel

Will materialise beside me and lay a gentle

Hand upon my scapula, and he will instruct

My body to behave in its accustomed way,

And he will imbue my spirit with force, and

It will no longer shiver as a flickering seed

Spinning down into a depth of running water.