So we left Willa and I He headed East to Baghdad and the of it I set out I the five or six miles to the last of the street lamps And hunkered in the side dusk out my thumb In no great hope at the ramshackle procession of home bound Success! An ancient 'dolmus ' The ubiquitous, Arab, shared drew up I turned out my and shrugged at the driver " pas de l'argent " " Venez! " A voice from the back seat The driver lent wearily across and pushed the back door I to look inside at the two men there One besuited, bespectacled, moustached, irritated, distant, The other, the one who had spoken, Frail, five-ish, bald, sallow, in a short sleeved pale blue cotton shirt With one biro in the pocket A clerk maybe, sunken in the seat "Venez!" He said again, and "Mais pas de l'argent" "Oui, Oui, d'accord, Venez!"
Are these the people that we should Are we so sure they mean us Is our pleasure, punishment or crime Is this a mountain that we really want to The is hard, hard and long Put down two by four This man would never turn you his door Oh George! Oh George! That Texas education must have fucked you up when you very small
He beckoned a small arthritic motion of his hand together like a child waving goodbye The driver put my old Hofner in the boot with my rucksack And off we " etes Francais, monsieur? " " Non, " " Ah! " " que vous parlais Anglais, Monsieur? " "Non, je regrette" And so on In talk between strangers, his French alien but correct Mine halting but to please A lift, after all, is a Late moustache left us And some later the dolmus slowed at a crossroads lit by a single lightbulb Swung through a U-turn and stopped in a cloud of I opened the and got out But my benefactor no move to follow The driver dumped my guitar and at my feet And waving my thanks returned to the boot Only to with a pair of alloy crutches Which he leaned against the wing of the Mercedes. He reached the car and lifted my companion out Only one leg, the second trouser leg pinned beneath a vacant hip " Monsieur, si vous voulez, ca un honneur pour nous Si vous venez moi a la maison pour manger avec ma femme "
When I was 17 my mother, bless her heart, fulfilled my summer She me the keys to the car We motored down to Paris, fuelled Dexedrine and booze Got in Antibes by the cops And in Naples by the wops But everyone was kind to us, we were the dudes Our dads had helped win the war When we all knew what we fighting for But now an Englishman abroad is a US stooge The is a poodle snapping round the scoundrel's last refuge
"Ma femme", thank God! Monopod but not The taxi off leaving us in the dim light of the swinging bulb No building in What the "Merci monsieur" "Bon, Venez!" His creased in pleasure, he set off in front of me Swinging his leg the crutches with agonising care Up the dusty side road the darkness After half an we'd gone maybe half a mile When on the I made out the low profile of a building He out in Arabic to announce our arrival And after scuffling inside a lamp was lit And the changing angle of in the wide crack under the door Signalled the approach of within The door open and there, holding a biblical looking oil lamp a squat, moustached woman, stooped smiling up at us She stood aside to let us in and as she I saw the for her stoop She on her back a shocking hump I nodded and smiled back at her in greeting, for control The gentleness between the one-legged man and his monstrous Almost too for me
Is too much for us gentleness be filed along with empathy We feel for else's child Every time a smart does its sums and gets it wrong Someone else's child dies and in defence rise America, America, please hear us we call You got hip-hop, be-bop, hustle and You got Atticus You got Jane You got freedom of You got great beaches, and malls Don't let the might, the Christian right, it all up For you and the of the world
They excitedly She went to take his in routine of care He chiding, We a guest She embarrassed by her pas Took my things and laid them gently in the "Du the?" We sat on meagre in one corner of the single room The floor was earth packed hard and by one wall a platform Some six foot by covered by a simple sheet, the bed The hunchback busied herself with small copper pots an open hearth And brought us tea, hot and And so to Flat, unleavened bread, + Cooked in an iron over the open hearth Then folded and into the soft insides of female sea urchins My hostess did not eat, I ate her She would hear of else, I was their guest And she retired behind a curtain And left the men to sit thimbles full of Arak Carefully poured a small bottle with a faded label Soon she reappeared, Carrying in her their pride and joy, their child. I'd never seen a squint that So that as one eye looked out the other disappeared behind its nose
Not in my name, Tony, you great war you is still terror, whosoever gets to frame the rules History's not by the vanquished or the damned Now we are Genghis Khan, Borghia, Son of Sam In 1961 they took this child into their I wonder what of them In the that was Lebanon If I could find them now, could I make How the story end?
And so to bed, me that is, not Of course they on the floor behind a curtain Whilst I lay all night on their earthen bed Then came the dawn and then their stirrings not to wake the guest I yawned in great And took the bowl of water heated up and washed And sipped my coffee in its cup And then with much "merci-ing" and and shaking of hands We left the woman to her And we men made our way to the crossroads The painful of our progress accentuated by the brilliant morning light The dolmus reappeared My host gave me one crutch and leaning on the Shook my hand and "Merci, monsieur," I " De " " And merci a femme, elle est tres gentille " Giving up his other He allowed to be folded into the back seat again "Bon voyage, monsieur," he And half bowed as the taxi headed south towards the I turned North, my over my shoulder And the first hot of wind Quickly dried the salt tears from my cheeks.