it is an ancient place,
oswald’s tree, the floor
bends, polished wood.
there was a wedding yesterday,
all kilted, the groom ate pie,
wore proper shoes with segs.
she showed me a cabinet, a spoon,
hand forged, old, beaten for sale.
i was travelling, a pretty
place, not good enough for some.
the bottle is crooked,
we left it
so.