Gitanes Blonde
April 05, 2014
I want to travel around the world
and write books
what I used to say when someone asked what
I wanted to do
with my life
I was asked this question
translated to proper British English
from a marbled mouthful of French
that I did not yet understand
while sitting in in a smoke filled cafe
with five strangers
in Paris
The translator, a lean man living in London
his too young girlfriend leaning her chin in his palm
singing Lorde lyrics
to no one in particular
Two other men flanked
me with their wool winter sleeves
their questions broken
by laughter and squat glass drinks
the one who brought me
there and everywhere
that one January week in Paris
the cheshire cat smirking
at the head of the table
“you want me to misbehave?” he asked when I attempted to say
something funny about the stuffed bear
Mais oui, s'il vous plaît. S'il vous plaît se conduisent mal et ravager moi.
he stood between my thighs
adjusting the collar of the silken black leather jacket
the shimmering silver zipper cold on my bare breasts
the gitanes blonde
cigarette smoldering behind us
He pulled back just far enough
to move forward the lens
the shutter swallowed slow and deep
the image of me
trembling
want washing over me
in molten pulsing waves
Je veux tout
Quand tu veux
Comme tu veux
Ask me now
what I want to do
with my life
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