La Belle Saison
I centred my bottle of opened bière
on Leonard’s forehead as I revisited
my circulated Lazy Susan of history –
If we had fucked in Paris in ’68 – if our
false histories were purchased items –
I would have bought extra time with
my French friend in 2018 / A summer
gave up / I cupped her right buttock
in my left hand & we kissed as if all
others no longer [only for an hour?]
mattered – as another re-cycled her
suckers [her paying lovers] / I fell in
love for one last time in my only life
[under another’s misdirections from
her downstage position – she recited
lines that she had written out as lies]
Her claims of drunken anger survive
whilst my sobriety stings in wounds –
Leonard would’ve totally understood
why love was my way to pare to truth
[as my French friend said… plus serré]
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