The Book with Twelve Tales Page 12

  Suddenly I was in a white room. An towerblock room. An old man lay on a white divan against one wall. I shook his hand, which was long and white. A rush mat lay on the floor. Another old man sat against the far wall, crosslegged and grunting now and then. He was less white. Now and then he looked at his silver watch, which he pulled out of his waistcoat. Pinned on the wall was a Shell Company calendar with a picture of the silvery Bosphorus Bridge, so enormously beautiful that it looked like the path of an angel, from which flew red and white banners. There was a small window filled with blue sky. Across it now and then swivelled the heads of cranes like. Back and forth without a sound. Back and forth. I watched from the middle of the room. The old man unrolled a prayermat for the old man. It spoke in a faded voice of yellow, purple and red. Then he sat the old man up on the edge of his bed, put his feet on the mat and the bedcover round his shoulders. With his face held up at the bright square of sky and cranes, the old man prayed. His lips whispered. The old man looked at his silver watch.

  98 Boing, halva and Military

  Right, said Dr Ismail smilingly, let’s go. But we didn’t hurry. The TV screen shrank with a pleasant rubbery boing. I smiled. We puffed up further in the lift to the Restaurant. I had spicy raw meatballs. Dr Ismail smiled. I drank beer after beer. We looked out over the statue of Atatürk, which looked especially friendly in the twinkling lights, and the Council Bus Depot. Dr Ismail ate his stuffed vineleaves. A bus pulled away, yellowy inside. Let’s go to Ergani! he said, and guffawed, haha. I smiled and drank beer. Who cares?

  Then we had halva.

  To finish the evening we strolled to the Children’s Teagarden opposite the Post Office, smoking expansively. We drank five glasses of tea each under the trees on little children’s chairs. Hundreds of neon tubes were strapped to the branches so that the canopy of trees above us looked like. The waiter was called Military. Dr Ismail snorted frowningly. Because, said Dr Ismail beaming, he was born when his father was on National Service. Oh dear! Can you imagine! His jacket laughed flickeringly. We decided to go on to the Green Garden Teahouse where we sat in the green garden under a rainbow of fairylights. Dr Ismail boomed with laughter. Military! he said, haha! I smiled.

  For all sorts of reasons.

  99 On and on and on and on

  I walked home openmouthed with the world. How it just got on. Even I, with tiny regenerative wheels within wheels, was a part of its process. Eventually, I’d die. But not this time. Until then, miraculously repaired, I was still well.

  100 Like

  I wandered homewards. Some sheep looked down at me from someone’s balcony. A big tree whispered. The moon swung out and up and over like.

  About the Author

  JOHN GALLAS was born in 1950 in Wellington, New Zealand. He came to England in 1971 and currently works for the Leicestershire Student Support Service. He has published five earlier collections of poetry with Carcanet and edited the anthology of world poetry The Song Atlas (2002).

  Also by John Gallas from Carcanet

  Flying Carpets over Filbert Street

  Grrrrr

  Practical Anarchy

  Resistance is Futile

  Star City

  As editor

  The Song Atlas: A Book of World Poetry

  Copyright

  First published in 2008

  by Carcanet Press Ltd, Alliance House, 30 Cross Street, Manchester M2 7AQ

  This ebook edition first published in 2011

  All rights reserved

  © John Gallas, 2008

  The right of John Gallas to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly

  Epub ISBN 978–1–84777–793–5

  Mobi ISBN 978–1–84777–749–2