Forgive me this confabulation of fromage – but it is, indeed, National Poetry Month..in, err, The States, but I assume I can still join in?…Seeing as we are all part of the global cheese eating community, what?
IN CAHOOTS WITH LE TOOTS
This boy whose ripe semen
made my whole body teemen-
This man of just thirty-five-
when we kissed, made me feel so alive.
With love and lust, with crazed, wild-headed amor.
And although we were always so, so poor.
We were rich with simplicity,
Just two babies, him and me.
No mortgage, no home, no sense of 2.4
A bycycle, some lycra.
But we always wanted more…
A dusty jeep in the Spanish mountains,
a French farmhouse…and space for counting
our children, as four became five.
A wilderness, a desert, a city, a community
That certain something, a je ne sais quoi, that will make us blissful with glee…
Of course, we already have it,
Me and my cheese puff.
We already have quite, quite enough,
And more, but that won’t stop us looking
We will never stop cooking-
Up; plans and adventures, dreams and desires,
Of stories to tell our grandchildren round campfires.