gaudy form

here I met you ann at the reception of the four seasons hotel sat in a musty armchair and fattening your lungs with good duch tobacco dry vodka martini your disciples are dragged on stage recite rimbaud frenzy of applauding you tell them that everything can be interpreted see how dry are my anxieties how slowly the fixity is squeezed do not laugh stink poetry is is part of me that always… …in fine nobody ever come here last leave you guilty of love I remain with my flatness insipidity and slate-roofed house