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Category: Poems

The French
I take back
what I said
about the French

Oh sure
there are the pointy shoes
the murses, the chain smoking
and the little dogs
that go poop in the street

But they are a pretty people
so passionate
and mais oui, polite!
Bonjour, monsieur! S'il voux plait! Merci!

And there is the history
layer on layer
built up and pulled down
Death and rebirth
darkness and light
popes and kings
and obscene excess
and finally, revolution

There is bread and cheese and wine
and love
flowers, carousels, fountains, long rows of trees
along grand boulevards
chic Parisian matrons
with coifs of wine-copper

And in the caves
the Metro, the streets
the museums-within-museums
art, art, art
art to make you wonder
art to roil you up
so much art it makes you weep

Mais oui!
The French!
Hard Cell
I want to tell
the man bellowing into his phone
Your cell-mate can hear you
even if you chirp
like a tufted titmouse
and not
a Great Woolly Mammoth
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Trump supporters are people who know what they believe.
~ JC, Bonny Doon