A beer, an esplanade, pigeons
pattering around the scrawny shrubs
- a sort of untouchable peacefulness.
I think how this very moment would be different
had I been admitted to hospital for a month,
at the mercy of tests and a firm promise of death.
I think how I’ve never had a melanoma, cirrhosis,
a stomach hernia, those things
that friends of mine have endured.
And some lines by Emily Dickinson come to mind
very similar to this strong light of Lisbon.
I think how after all I have
a real hell,
for, like yours, it's deadly.