Voices on the Wind Evening Voices
LíAngeloís by David Francis Sitting in the wine bar as evening grows dark at a rickety small table by the French door on a Friday night, the bronze watch gleams by the shot-glass candlelight and the black-haired barmaids: one works behind bar, the other works the floor. The Psychic Readerís charades for some will be a lark; as far as I am able Iíll find consolation in daydreams.