It all starts with a violet ice cream

Served in a small tub

With a yellow plastic spoon

 

The market begins so suddenly that it almost takes you by surprise

It is next to a busy road

Which is not the place to be on a hot day

But you want to be there under the cool shady trees

 

The stalls stretch off into the distance

Elegant under their colourful aprons

Everything can be found in this part of Arles

 

Timid Bibles and redundant street signs

Provencal pottery and subtle chiffon scarves

Books and paintings trinket boxes and rings

All of life can be found in this peaceful passage

 

The stallholders seem languid and almost unwilling to sell

Some items are priced whilst others retain their mystery

You are seduced almost immediately

But deny yourself the pleasures of the moment

And then you crumble and exchange a low value note

For an object of desire

 

The market ends soon after

 Abruptly without much warning

 It fades into an ordinary car park

Near a lane that leads to the arena