morris would spray paint the pyramids:
take off his shirt, put on a mask and
fire off with paint against the corrugated cardboard:
in twilight a mob would gather and shout
followed by the fire-eaters, the drummers and restless girls,
when the bura descended violently from the other side of the bay,
beach umbrellas would fly in to the air
together with their concrete posts and terrace guests:

yves and dabo were seated facing us,
like the previous night:
then tanja wanted to change place because she could not control her hair.
that way she fucked up mine, which brazenly flew in my mouth,
in beer froth, cutting off the view of the rare,
shivering female pedestrians on the promenade

morris still spray painted the pyramids,
the wind kept dispersing a multi-colored mist into the on-lookers faces
from the involuntarily anchored ship,
a guest on the terrace across from us ordered
a beer and four sedatives
and a light bulb went off abruptly.
tanja said: that was me;
I succeed each time I really want to succeed.