He took care I should recognize him
Holding a glass of green liqueur which was
Almost his trademark. Still, the yellow eyes
And huge bald head would have been enough
“Monsieur Verlaine?” “I pray you – speak English!
Your French is quite painfully bad.”
“As you will. Satisfy my curiosity; are we
In one of my dreams or yours?” “Neither good sir;
You would not survive ten minutes in my dreams
Not even the gentle ones with the shepherds
And I would– permit me to speak frankly! –
Perish of
boredom in your worst nightmare.
“I know a whore – are there any I don’t know?—
She dreams of us both. How disappointed she is!
She was hoping for great feathered hats
And parfaits and reconciliation with her sister
Who died unhappily when she was 16.”
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