limping
to a quiet table
in Solaris Lounge
smelling of the sea
waxed wings
burnt black
I catch a glimpse
of a cocky kid
with a smear
of a mustache
looking like
he has a story to tell
he lowers his eyes
a few feathers float to the floor
I see blisters
on his slender body
at last he says
there is no story to tell
no story at all