Though everyone knows the Abbe
And the Countess have long
Been lovers, for the sake
Of discretion when they walk
In her ordered garden a footman
Follows ten feet behind, sweeping
The ground, erasing all
Evidence of their passing. If I were
To join them their ghosts would
Startle, deeming me impertinent
But I think the footman might welcome
A bit of company. We'd try to guess
The words we can't hear.
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