for françoise hardy
at the seine's edge
a giant shadow
of notre dame
seeks t grab my foot
sorbonne students
whirl by on thin bicycles
swirlin' lifelike colors of leather spin
the breese yawns food
far from the bellies
or erhard meetin johnson
piles of lovers
fishing
kissing
lay themselves on their books, boats.
old men
clothed in curly mustaches
float on the benches
blankets of tourist
in bright nylon shirts
with straw hats of amba**adors
(cannot hear nixon's
dawg bark now)
will sail away
as the sun goes down
the doors of the river are open
i must remember that
i too play the guitar
it's easy t stand here
more lovers pa**
on motorcycles
roped together
from the walls of the water then
i look across t what they call
the right bank
an envy
your
trumpet
player