I am currently looking at a photograph taken in the Wakayama Prefecture in Japan

It shows hundreds of fireflies dancing in a bamboo forest

There are no fireflies in this dining room

The Spanish waiter has presented me with a book of poems by Mao Tsetung

My wife has finished her starter and is listening to the wind

Beating against the wide windows

It is dark outside but I can see the white surf

Of the angry sea

There are three other couples in this lonely room

They are speaking quietly to each other

The man at Table 10 is mentally undressing my wife

Whilst his wife stares into her leek and potato soup

This pleases me as I spent the afternoon relaxing on my wife’s full breasts

Listening to the harsh winds attack the sea

I am the only person in the hotel

Who is in possession of this book of poems

Later as we walked along the battered promenade

I asked my wife if she had written these poems

She smiled at me and told me that they were genuine

And were the Great Leaders final gift to me