It might have been the Island of Kefalonia
Sitting in an outdoor café
You said “Look at their clothes.
Listen to their conversations.
They are extras in the film of their own lives.
They don’t believe a damn word of what they’re saying”
All the while the waiter walked on water
With his dark Adonis eyes
And you let your words trail after him
Absentmindedly asking me
Why I was being so quiet
And I realize maybe it wasn't Greece at all
But all I could mutter under my breath
Barely daring to say my next line was,
“Artemis, I’ll have the wild boar”