553. I HAVE A CADENCE I DO WANT TO KEEP

I HAVE A CADENCE
I DO WANT TO KEEP
I am stuck with James Joyce in Trieste
and we are awaiting a train - one that
runs the waterfront slowly. And Nora
Barnacle who too has been waiting
has just now heard of the arrest.
We'd been brawling in a canal-side
bar - nothing very close to nothing
quite far - a few punches thrown
among others (thankfully) held back.
We were apprehended and taken to
jail, released after a hearing, and all
that. She is apoplectic at all the
time lost. We laugh it off as
a moment past its prime, at no
real cost. A water-taxi passes,
headed for Miramar, as we
decide (only so reluctantly now)
to dart up towards the summit of
San Giusto's hillock on the
Karst - the old city center
on the summit atop the hill.
Carlo Morpurgo and Lloyd
Trestino await us up there;
already quite drunk, we figure,
they are biding their time as
the birds do the air : a wavering
flight, a sway of the hands,
a certain cadence they
do want to keep.