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Language Lessons with Kelvin and Brigitte Bardot


I don’t think the waiter understood

but in the best of service he did not blink

I’m that hungry I could eat the crutch

out of a low flying duck

ordering scampi and fish soup,


and when you took the elder Arlean’s elbow

guiding with antipodean civility of purpose

look out love mind your shoes

there are barkers’ eggs by the dozens

she smiled knowing a Samaritan,


it was Brigitte Bardot on the slow coast train

saying the prisons were holiday farms

when you popped out for some amber hydration

anyway she got off in a huff at St Tropez

ignoring my broken French imbroglio


teared up on the park like bench

before all that refined impasto beauty of Chagall

making me laugh and cry almost pissed my pants

telling me in the best comforting manner you’d thought

I was a hard as a taxidermist’s glass eye, previous