into traffic:
glacial jam
leaving
the doorknob poles behind
leaving
a trail of lime green snot
while in paris we were both on the cusp of illness. we were snorting first defence a lot. it just about got us through. paris was very fun. there are daft poles with doorknobs on them all over the place.
dear parisiennes, what are your knobs for? why so wonky?
a hot time
in the lukewarm
hot tub
in the paris finca
dirt ship
down, max
imum
zen on the seine
you read your
local,
bell jar
let me light your plath
take me
to the
bistro
i love and missed you
nap to
moon sa
fari
slurp some snails at paul’s
to an
extent
we are
all, somewhat, a
hyster
ical
baby
in a pram being pushed down a paris boulevard
i love holiday poems. this holiday was the biggest rush. i barely had time to get my phone out my pocket. we were cycling around paris, cafes, cocktails, sightseeing, dinner. i bought a packet of fags. wish i hadn’t as despite not having bought another pack since i’m back on the nicotine replacement therapy.
the love epochal. n.n. benn 