Same same

Listening to “Help!”
in a Madrid cafetería
older than
the steady prose of Hemingway

Sifting missives,
none of which
will see the light of day

Chilled tapas line the bar
waiting for the microwave

Eighties classics follow on

It’s only Spotify, after all

Same, same

You can swim too deep

Nothing’s perfect

Never was or will be

Nobody’s to blame

Life as life is

Same, same