Greek holiday

Greek Holiday

At church in Piraeus, where priests have generous
bodies hidden under long, black dresses, wear long,
black beards around meaty lips and look like they
have sensually eaten a cow each, washed down with
alter wine, I queued in a line and was given a paper
bag of yesterday’s cakes, outside I gave my bag to
an old woman too poor to buy bread.
When she had eaten all she blew up the bags and
slammed them against a tree, it sounded as rifle shot
and the traffic stopped. Said I was reincarnation of
Mozart, me, who used to attack jukes boxes with an
axe and am forever trying to find the perfect bar
where silence reign, and clinking ice in a glass, sounds
as musical as tinkling silver bells in Lhasa.