Three Prologues

Three Prologues

                                i

It’s contagious –
swapping energy currencies
inside a faux Havana bar;
the grotesque & profane
peering through windows
at Mama San – a lunch hour
screwball comedy – moolah
for spicy rhetoric with a decor
that reeks of name droppings;
of circadian rhythms awakened.

                                 ii

I wonder how he coped –
a shrinking Napoleon on St Helena;
sketching cherry laurels
& japanese snowballs
beneath a deathly quiet
turned Belladonna – night’s shade
over an Atlantic wind chill;
a loose cannon echoing over stone.

                                  iii

My latest obsession
performs like a Neapolitan diva.
She likes the sound
of her own voice – as mother
used to say – holding the floor
in after hours residency.
She’s all vignettes & glissandi,
eyeballing me with intent
like Mona Lisa locked in time –
her signature tune as encore.

©️Orion Foote