The Green Inn   (after Rimbaud)   For eight days straight I battered my boots about On the stony roads. I strolled into Charleroi, —-Into the Green Inn: ordered slices of bread And butter, with half-cooled ham. Happy, I sprawled   My legs right out, under the green table: I contemplated the rather naive designs On the wallpaper--and it was sweet as, when The girl with enormous titties and lively eyes,   —  There's no kiss known could give that one a fright! — Smiling, served me rounds of buttered bread And lukewarm ham piled on a coloured plate  —   Rosy and white ham, fragrant with garlic--and filled My huge mug up with beer, whose foamy head Was shot to gold by a ray of late sunshine. Paul Stevens

If you have any comments on this poem, Paul Stevens would be pleased to hear from you.