Its a calm evening for once.
I just lit some incense in my room.
How romantic, sandalwood.
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I can see dark wood and I hear French music when I close my eyes.
Si Tu N'etais Pas La.
Crackly sound and a woman with a flower in her hair.
Violins? No. Violas and a Piano.
Now the incense is smoke, and I'm in Tunisia.
A small cafe? a bar?
A woman and a man are sitting at a round table.
He stares while her eyes flutter and she looks away.
Her breasts lay over her arm as she sighs,
But her eyelashes are pulling him closer into lovestruck oblivion.
What will become of this romance?
Thursday, June 7
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