When a human body moves further from the (self)life of rotation it becomes increasingly more difficult to change the rotational velocity of the establishment. Intuitively, this is because the human being is now carrying more momentum with it around the circle of life and because the existential momentum is changing more quickly.
(*) Photographs taken before the coronavirus pandemic
Do you remember Pierre,
where we fall in love
at first sight?
Sure, Marie, on the street
with the convex mirror
that deformed also
the sense of feeling.
And we kissed each other
in that passage found in works,
where everything was very dark.
Then we went up
to a rooftop terrace
where we touched
the sexy tower
with our fingers.
Also, we spent
the night awake
in the mystic dome
discovering all
type of secrets.
Do not remind me that:
the next weeks
we called each other
on the phone every second!
I was waiting for you
on the balcony to see
how you got off the bus:
Marie, Marie!
C’est moi, Pierre.
Montez à l’échelle!
It was very romantic!
Yes, Marie, and then
le petit Yves was born
and we were going
at the Carousel ride
and the umbrellas parade…
Do you remember
the pinky umbrellas,
my dear?
Yes, Pierre, indeed.
They seemed to fly
over our hearths
in a slighting manner!*
(*) Photographs taken before the coronavirus pandemic
Lovers hide their kisses
between the stone steps,
they just sealed a love
on the bridge Pont des Arts.
Tying love locks also
on the Pont de l’Archeveche,
near the Notre Dame cathedral,
and will remain anchored
other loved-up couples for ever.
Rainy spring days,
bright summer mornings,
lethargic autumn evenings,
long winter nights.
The couple return
to their home,
along the path
they look an old
sport car badly parked,
seems like an asynchronous
joke from the fabric
of Spacetime and the
Texture of Reality.
They wonder if it’s an omen
about the dragging unknown,
a warning of fate distortion.
Suddenly, they climb a bridge,
now both are two little children
from the Ecole élémentaire
Saint Michel, and promise
eternal loving care
in the Parc de l’île Saint-Germain.
The writer crumples
the sheet of the poem,
distracted himself
by the tourist in a kilometer
queue between iron pipes,
Contemporary Artworks
and a strange hunger
for aesthetic knowledge.
–I need a new haircut,
and I will do without delay,
in the surreal barbershop
and hair salon for men
exhibiting wired models
of sailing ship replicas.
Did the old hairdresser
whose pulse hesitate,
have been jeopardized
in another pirate’s afterlife?
(*) Photographs taken before the coronavirus pandemic
The ghostly shadow jumps La Gare
Saint-Lazare when Cartier-Bresson
shoots his Leica rangefinder
and the Second World War
sneaks discrete through.
Cheerful women in magazines
smile decades ago and nobody
check out. You can turn freely
the pages of the dusty past,
except for Duc de Berry,
héritier du trône de France.
The smiling young blonde dawns
on the rooftops of the Opéra Garnier,
it is the sun of a new day.
And the runner of the Seine,
today will have a heart attack!
Falling in love with Henriette:
I’ll do whatever you say…
The transgender of bold-framed
Gucci’s glasses laughs out loudly,
and his young lover with moon
and black hair manages to sign
with White Marker Pen the tiny
corner of Le mur des je t’aime.
With unusual strength the mixed
couple lifts freehand her babe
from the stroller, step after step
until they touch the firm ground
that gleams brightly at the station
Porte de la Chapelle.
At night the shinning flash
overlaps the sparkles sequins
of the bride’s oriental dress,
in a quantum physics ceremony:
two quarks up, one quark down.
The mist numbs the cold steel
reflecting the glamorous lights
of La Cité des amants perdus.
Paris sleeps between white sheets,
luxurious perfumes, iconic paintings,
universal poets, sensual dancers,
majestic boulevards, timeless
monuments, silent parks, myths,
night barges, wild children,
headless monarchs, revolutions,
revolutionaries, partisans,
Armed People Victorious…
Navel of the world,
Avant-Garde Tradition
and Individual Talent,
discoverers, science,
erudition, Arts,
and the faraway echo
of a promising speech:
Paris! Paris outragé!
Paris brisé!
Paris Martyrisé!
Mais Paris libéré!
Meanwhile, the champagne’s muselet
spoil to the curvaceous Eiffel Tower:
–Des vins zéro défaut, sinon rien*.
(*) Photographs taken before the coronavirus pandemic
City of charm,
novelized by great writers,
and desired by cohorts
of unfathomable lovers.
Rainwater is deposited
in Man Ray style:
Larmes (Tears) on Car-Tops.
On the Seine you can feel
the upward glance
of the fin du 19e siècle.
Couples unleash passions
in invisible rooftops.
The inner courtyards
attend to growth
the glistening wild pots.
Someone seems
to come out
of a film-noir movie.
Nouvelle Vague…
Mirage days
(Before Love Fall),
intended to invoke
wonder at the cause*.
(*) Photographs taken before the coronavirus pandemic
Lluís Bussé 