the passing of time

the passing of time

 When I left the country I first went to Liverpool, met a woman and married.

I tried my handwriting but the woman thought it was stupid, so I stopped writing

opened up a café that was ok for some time.

We were both working-class I had been a seaman and used my spare time reading

world literature and had time to see and think, she was not so lucky, she had been

an auxiliary nurse and had no interest in the movies or books.

With time I come to dislike the English way the pub and occasionally a trip

to Alton Towers (entertainment centre) too banal for my taste.

I sold the café took the plane to Portugal it was like coming home, of course

 she hated it and it ended in divorce.

For the first time in my life, I could write what I wanted without receiving ironic

remarks. This is how I spend my time now that I’m old writing and reading give

the pleasure I need little else matters I never liked throngs of people.

My new wife never interferes with my writing

Only says if I sit doing nothing around, go write something, of course with her being

Congolese She speaks Portuguese and French but not

Much English shall I call this a blessing?

◄ separate tables

early one morning ►

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