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What his father says is good enough almost to have engraved on a stone –
“ If we lose each other on the Canal , we ’ ll meet up again at ‘ The Poitín Still ’.”
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On your second last day you send us across the street to the restaurant to learn again what it means to eat . Italy were playing Spain at sunset .
Potato and asparagus soup to start , then beautiful Lamb stew , a list of pizzas as long as your arm .
The owner at the window table , taking time out to dine before the rush , accepted patron ’ s wishes for the Azzurri , a citizen cherishing a half glass of wine , his silhouette , a picture of how to live .
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The last time you used the words ‘ I am ’; “ You ’ d better talk , because I ’ m not able .”
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