I love that city. Espcially the chocolat chaud. I have one about a different
station:
Uneasy at Gare du Nord
each hour is a fragment of the next; you wait,
loosening your accord with the world;
its nothing more than the uneasiness of
contradiction (for no moment really relates to another)
because the woman you watch scrubbing
the wall reveals herself with the coarse brush
and now you recall her luminous detail (at this
later unrelated moment) as you sense the familiar chair,
the white rail of the empty page, the cold,
and the nearness of freshly brewed coffee.
On Fri, Mar 28, 2008 at 10:17 PM, Halvard Johnson <[log in to unmask]>
wrote:
> Sonnet: On the Way to Gare St. Lazare
>
> Missed my train and had to wait five minutes for the next one.
> Enjoyed a brioche with marmalade at the Irish pub.
> Planned a Japanese meal with Mike and the rest of the guys (and gals).
> Fell asleep briefly in a bar so dark one could easily fall asleep in it.
>
> Learned to say "I need to have sex with you right now" in French.
> Got up late again this morning. Haven't been sleeping well.
> Met Georgina and that Corsican guy at the Louvre.
> Stayed inside because of the rain. All-day rain. Again.
>
> Went to check emails. Nothing from home.
> Wandered over to the art school to meet my friends.
> Had another chocolat chaud. That must be thirty or so now.
> Started to catch up on my reading. Again. New book this time.
>
> Got some food at a lovely restaurant with purple and red chairs.
> Sat inside, hopping outside to take photos.
>
>
>
>
>
> Hal
>
> Halvard Johnson
> ================
> [log in to unmask]
> http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard/index.html
> http://entropyandme.blogspot.com
> http://imageswithoutwords.blogspot.com
> http://www.hamiltonstone.org
> http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard/vidalocabooks.html
>
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