It’s not the boy who arrests me, it’s the man I recognize above the boy, a man on a balcony who’s dropping a wet skirt to dry over the steel rail of it, and a blouse, and a towel, and other laundry, and then blue sheets.
Posts tagged france
Gertrude Stein’s Poodle
She. They. They call. They call and call. They call me Basket. Come, Basket. Good Basket Darling, cher, sweet Basket. Ce qui est la Panier? We play. But I am. I am more. I am…