Le Petite Plaisirs

Le Petite Plaisirs

a ribbon of blue smoke
lingers over a Billy Holiday song
my black kitten heels, your bell laugh, our cappuccinos

living life like a piece of art, right?
am I the woman in the red dress?
are you the man in the suit? we could be that dancing couple

the couple on the beach in that Vettriano painting
every day should be blessed with a solid line of literature
a pretty painting, a moving song, an inspiring work of art

I read that somewhere once, but sometimes there is only dry toast
cold fried rice stuck to the carton
and all the chocolates in the box are orange flavored

the paintings are water-colored-palms-trees-on-a-beach
the poets are all dirty old men
and the colors on my palette turn to gray like the clouds outside

you warm up the rice and put on a French song
tell me to boil the kettle and curl into bed
tomorrow is another day, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow