the cook and his sister

the cook and his sister

once I was a poet blinded by the shiny pebbles, by the shore
of purity and heart delight, but it was not to be
although it was said about me in India, this man is really innocent
My sister stood crying at the railway station in Montreal
so, what are the tears for Are you not alive
you silly girl;  I have been dead for 44 years
and you think you have forgotten
can forget about real life, anyway
 I have never been
in Montreal, especially now that I'm dead
you should see the main street in Montreal
 it is the longest
in a world with hundreds of shops and cafes, you can get
Borch in seven variations, alas their sons became lawyers
now it is Mcdonald's burgers and Indian curry houses
What has that got to do with my worries
 I have never been
here before and wants to go home to my sons, if they have
not forgotten me; take me home brother!
Shells fell from my eyes, and I stood naked as a statue in
a graveyard with no footsteps in the snow, oh, you silly man
when are you going back to what you knew, a drunk cook
on sunken ships