Acts of Mind What's funny about this place is us regulars coming in with our different accoutrements, mine usually the little void of space I call honey, days I can barely get through I'm laughing so hard, see? In the back a woman squeezes oranges, someone presses the fresh white bread into communion wafers or party favors. In the window the chickens rotate blissfully, questioning nothing-- Sometimes I flirt with the cashier, just improvising, the way birds land all in a hurry on the streetlamp across the street which stays warm even on cold nights.
Guillaume says humor is sadnessand he's awfully pretty. What do they put in this coffee? Men?No wonder I get a little high. Rememberwhen we didn't have sex on the ferris wheel,oh that was a blast,high, high above the Tuileries! Copyright © 2013 by Catherine Barnett. Used with permission of the author. |
About This Poem "For two months every summer, you can pay ten euros to be lifted and spun in a little cage of air, weightless above the world's most romantic city. I did ride it once, with a friend, but I only overheard the story about a couple making love in one of the little cabooses swaying in the hot summer night wind. This poem is a celebration of solitude and desire and is suspended on the cable that connects the one to the many."
--Catherine Barnett |
0 comments:
Post a Comment