Sinbad the Sailor
My soul is often
a side street in Mykonos
in the twilight
and women start
putting down on the street,
quite erotically and
in triangular, monotonous shapes
blue glasses
blue plates
blue carafes
blue lust
violins
flowers
pebbles
all in blue colour
away from the sun
on the soil
in the street
where the sun passed
besides
it won’t pass again
then exactly then
is the time
when I
pass my hand
softly
over my cranium
and I press it
deep
Manolis Aligizakis 