Thursday, September 13, 2012

France will Float and Linger


France will float and linger
for a day or two at most –

gently jolt me – coast me
through her ghostly wake,

softly breaking into aberrant
dimensions of New York.

Paris is a phantom mildness –
vestiges and memories

of déjeuner two weeks ago:
a cream-sauced cotelette of pork,

subtly bubbled by the Perrier
I sipped as its accompaniment.

A-lumpity-dumpity-do – by dint
of nonsense rhyme,

dismembering, remembering,
I pass the time: imagining I feel

the Ile de Saint-Louis
hold onto me.


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