February 01, 2006

Nos pensées sont dictées d’outre–mer

It was you who said we were ‘falling’
and called it ‘love’. Like the french,
an anxious government in my head
assembled a meeting, stiffening their beards
with the perfumed grease of nationalism.

“Protegez notre langue! We cannot be seen
to have our language dictated by overseas!”

they threw down their canes.

By degrees,
I developed my secret ‘franglais’ :

“Will you get me some yoghurt at the supermarket?”
browsing at ‘le supermarche’ I throw spurious spices into our trolley.

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you too, baby.”

- 3 comments by 1 or more people Not publicly viewable

  1. i likkkkke it!

    dont think you need the 'anxious' on the second line tho.

    10 Feb 2006, 18:50

  2. sorry, third.

    10 Feb 2006, 18:51

  3. chelsea Bruce

    okay seriously, what does this have to do with my birthday?

    11 Feb 2006, 14:36

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