Some Are/Some Aren't 21.

The table is next to the street in the
shade; Jack sits down.

He can hear the splash of the fountain,
water falling from the Griffins mouth.

“J’ai Perdu Un Ami”, the inscription begins…

The Griffin can only read it if it turns
it’s head.

Stone Griffins don’t turn their head;
anyway… if it does its wings will hide the rest.

“Et La France, Un De Ses Plus Genereux…”

The last word - “Defenseurs” -  is superfluous, but
it is carved there on the white marble.

I think it’s marble.

But it’s not carved. It’s etched.

In gold.

The marble is white.

The Griffins are green.

Coppery green.

Rusty coppery green.

The column that rises from the white marble
base – if it is marble – is the same rusty coppery green.

With a bit more rust.

This is strange, as the column is clearly stone.

At the top of the column there is a golden
statue.

An angel I think, as it has wings.

Griffins have wings but they don’t look
like angels; the statue looks like an angel.

Or a winged messenger.

The sun, late August, hits; bathes - stuns
the statue.

Into silence.

There is only the stream of Griffin spit
falling onto the water, above which they sit.

The sky - late August - too is blue.

A blue that only a brightly lit golden
angel could dare to pale.

Jack moves to the table against the wall.

J’ai demanagé he explains to the waiter who arrives with
a cold beer; the first cold beer of summer.

The waiter has to clean this table too, and
move another ashtray; Jack doesn’t smoke.

Never has.

He doesn’t usually drink beer, but he is
thirsty.

He can see the pedestrian crossing now; a
blind lady waits on one side – her white stick waits with her.

A man with a shopping trolley – red – thick
round glasses and a sailor’s cap – black- walks past.

A cyclist turns, another follows.

A car stops, the lady crosses, the Griffins
spit; they never stop.

Jack moves again, to the table at the end
of the terrace; he is still in the shade but there is room now in front of the
shop for people who may come and join him.

The shop is shut for the summer.

Jack moves the empty glasses from this
table onto the previous.

He removes the ashtray too.

The waiter walks up.

J’ai demenagé encore une fois, explains Jack.

Vous êtes un grand voyageur, the waiter replies.

Pigeons come to the side of the fountain to
drink; the Griffins do not frighten them.

Maybe it’s the wings.

int (in a sa/sa) 63