i tell your girlfriend in front of you
in French
i want to embrace her, kiss her,
spend hours in her arms, spend
hours with my mouth on her pussy
give her orgasms she will remember
another thing i’ll never do
i’d get drunk
or stoned
or high
on some shit
and never live up to my promises
it feels good to say it
to her face,
the words form so easily
in my mouth
my poor French is finally put to good use
she understands every word and blushes
you sit there in the comfort of ignorance
just two girls chatting in another language
we met once, in the tiny graveyard
of St John the Baptist Parish church
down a narrow lane behind the pub
three or four beers into the night
under a full moon
she looks gorgeous in a long
black dress
long black hair
resting on the edge
of a weathered chest tomb
smoking Gauloises
speaking to me in grandiloquent
le Français
it’s a kiss as long as the night
as deep as memory
will allow
