Fish Sandwich

A thin girl in a turquoise top
Looks at me and smiles
Or maybe she is smiling at her boyfriend’s joke
Or the lopsided sign behind me
Or maybe she is gazing
Into the middle distance of her memory
And recalling the time
Her mother fell and was caught
By a clown in a spotted smock

We are sitting at the Canadian Bar
On the Left Bank of the Seine
Just round the corner
From where Picasso painted Guernica

And Jill looks over my shoulder
And, seeing the opening lines, writes in my book
Does she want my fish
For a sandwich then?
And I laugh and say, Fish?
A fish sandwich?
And Jill laughs too
And says no – fist!