Waiting for money in a far country

No, they said at the post, there is nothing. There is nothing for that name.

The satisfied shaking head far clearer than the words

and the dull black haired woman protected by a grill was glad that there was nothing

the yellow face under the dull hair, and notices forbidding.

Out, and the heat by the bull-ring: the glare and the unceasing rush of the hot wind

the hard dry heartless yuccas and the wind

no air in the wind: dust and the perpetual rushing of the wind.

the passport back in the pocket – sweat from the small effort, for the corners stick.

How many days to London? Allow the week-end desert

One to answer – it is urgent they will write at once – and so many back.

How much money? Count one two three

money as filthy as the by-word: dirty, dirty paper.

Divide. Can it be done? It must be done and must be done

but what if they ask for their money?

Gall in the stomach.

Have the letters gone to the wrong address, astray in Paris?

It was madness to let the money go so fast; so low now.

A wire?

And see the long thin envelope tomorrow, look a fool, and poor?

Shame stands before the door: one cannot ask again

shame can kill men die of shame

Not till tomorrow.

Kill the time and murder it read a book and murder that.

No sleep.

The wind for ever and the flies

no sleep, but dreams of telegrams in montage – palimpsests,

counting and dividing.

Dare one go and see? The queuing for the words to sear the day and all those plans

so frail they are now – all is spent and all must wreck.

Better have hope today: avoid them on the stairs, go south about

it’s sure tonight. Four days and one for chance

And sure it is indeed.

But not tonight, nor any other night

and accidie shall wait on fifty pound.

On the broad green desk, baskets In and Out.

These only want your signing – contracts, cheques.

This fellow. yes. Annoyed me at the Ivy – talked too much

no, said Barabbas, he can wait.