The Poetry Kit
Occasionally, I'll scour the airwaves
for a station playing opera - any
opera will do. As long as there is
some kind of musical dialogue, frothing
between the male and female; the tenor
and mezzo-soprano. And turning to you,
with one eyebrow raised, one hand
forming an O out of forefinger and thumb,
I'll translate the conversation best I can:
"What would you like for dinner, darling?"
"Oh, I'm not fussed, what do we have?"
"Nothing exciting - I could whip us up an omelette."