Indiscretions and Koffee

Two vices I have –

few more in my core;

some voices do still

ring out like bells on

early Mediterranean

morn – sore remembered

but pleasurable even

so: I’d never toe the line

there again for sure.

And so even I do

voices and vices have both:

the first I have mentioned

in the indiscretions I

tell and let slip like some

mad hickory stick; but the

second is more communicable:

something easier to say;

something finer in its

transitory laziness and sepul-



history: the taking of coffee – its

time, place and savour, its

flavoursome bite, its gentle

nipping of the senses – reminds

me that vice doesn’t need to

be wrong.

And how I hope it may

be elsewhere; be so else-


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