When some wine overflowed….
There was some Barthes
And some wine
The wine was flowing
The apparition was real
Yes it was
We were talking
But just some words
And then you asked me
My favourite place
Haha I laughed, favourite place?
I then showed you its picture
The place where my father used to take me
Where unbridled I would explore the nooks and corners
Those secret staircases and terraces
The vast expanse and space
Unbidden you touched a chord within me
We then talked of our favourite plays
Our parents, our books, the poetry
And the second sex
Yes, Beauvoir’s second sex
How we meant to read it
Yet it never transpired
Always in the back of our minds
Is it not for most of the things?
Read, write, see and love?
So many things we conjure
So much we desire
Some love, some sex and some comfort?
This could be my most bold?
Is it the few puffs of weed that I smoked?
Or did the wine really overflow??