Apr 04 2008
A day at the Opera.
It was winter when I came home, had been in
Spainfor twenty years; cold and snow and I wore sandals;asked mother for woolen socks, she wouldn’t give me any since I didn’t lived here anymore. My sisterwho was there too, agreed. Having no home I went to the cinema to see
Casablanca, got lost and walked in a maze of empty streets where everyone sat indoors watching TV, I could tell by the flickering blue light on curtains. When I finally got there, it was an opera house, and premiere, plenty of horse drawn carriage outside where the famous were being photographed and interviewed by a sycophantic, yet resentful press that hoped the horses would bolt. “ I’m an opera lover” I said and sang an aria from Madam Butterfly, still they wouldn’t let me in, the sandals you see. So I walked back home, only it wasn’t there anymore, but made into a par
king lot; served me right for being away too long