By Catherine Edmunds
Published: October 16, 2007
Updated: September 5, 2010


he sat on his motorbike
garish, resplendent,
in periwig, surcoat and pantaloons

he waited
we waited
they waited
all waited
for the fish underneath him to ripen

and when it did
the fumes exuded
took him to Tajikistan
(and back)
and then all the way to France


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