And that is the longing, and this is the book

I'm reading some wonderful poetry at the moment.

If you could write a poem to hum to yourself should you walk down La Ramblas, towards the docks, then this is what it would be:
(You'd have to make allowance for many of the brilliant bars that dot the place, especially one such as this: Obama, and Obama) though what the reviewers dont mention is the life-size statue of Obama sitting on a bench about 2 feet from our table.

***

You'd sing too

You'd sing too
if you found yourself
in a place like this
You wouldn't worry about
whether you were as good
as Ray Charles or Edith Piaf
You'd sing
You'd sing
not for yourself
but to make a self
out of the old food
rotting in the astral bowel
and the loveless thud
of your own breathing
You'd become a singer
faster than it takes
to hate a rival's charm
and you'd sing, darling
you'd sing too