|photo credit: spirit of paris|
After a film,
poster and reflections
Intently, furtive glances, to the right, then gone …
left man passes, consume in a bite, then a girl
with glasses, lashes and a bic light
Curly Q’s and then somberness of night.
But, still the poster glows … the Trocadero, a movie
de l’amour and Vertigo, a fright:
An image of a man, a stale lacuna, a ghost of film noir
gazing, not apart, partly connected. Dreams and visions
speak aloud to wet, litter caked streets.
Rotted lemon luminaries haze a path,
dulling humid low land streets, scarcity curtains pulled upwards,
A Peugot passes, the stones of erasmus clamor to get out.
The posters gleam yet; characters speak and a stomach,
somewhere thirsty growls — it is filled and then …
in upward windows aching she dresses for a silent figure fantasy.
A flicker, then bed, holding a tea pot, languidly.
Une regard to a postcard, to consume.
speeches to please, to sugar, then the tongue licks,
alors madame …
like a box of potpourri; charming
half-dead, withered, enchanting