She said to him that he looked like a king.
“Okay, all right,” she said, “let’s say: a child;
you look like the son of a king.” He laughed loudly.
She said: “I like your laugh. It is regal.”
“Suppose I am a royal,” said the man;
he looked at her kindly; and she gazed up,
muddling out a rush of jumbled words.
“Does it matter who bore me? What am I?
I do not know myself, I am in doubt.”
And neither spoke again of it that day.
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Lawrence Upton
Visiting Fellow, Music Dept,
Goldsmiths, University of London
New Cross, London SE14 6NW
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