LONG LIVE GOD, LUIS JUST SAID
My thoughts were elsewhere at the time,
More with Shane and my landlord’s banking details.
Luis left, not caring he was drunk.
I have to play tomorrow afternoon, he said, bridge tournament
In Dubrovnik.
His rental car’s parked just outside, no idea why.
Better to leave it across the street, at Johannes and Gerda’s,
Who just got back from Venice, I believe,
Couple of days of drifting.
Heard some news this afternoon of Fluitje,
A Turkish guy from Termunterzijl, who happens to know Luis
From a race track in Dubai.
A pal for the future, said Luis
When I told him Shane irritated me.
Not surprising, said Luis,
What an arsehole.
Fluitje – before I forget – sent me a photograph
Saying: this is my mother.
What was it to me?
I wrote back: is she okay?
Then Eltjo called about a rugby ball on special offer.
Funny thing: he knows Fluitje from the boxing ring.
Shane isn’t easy-going, not by any means.
But what Luis thinks of him, well, that’s just Luis.
Time was when Shane sold socks for a living,
A measly, wearisome trade, but nowadays
