Temps Que J'Etais Jeune (Gabriella's Jig)

Ah! Du temps que j’etais jeune
Dondaine ma dondaine
J’avais deux amoureux, ma luron lurette
J’avais deux amoureux, ma luron lure

J’avais Pierre et Ti Toine
Dondaine ma dondaine
J’avais le choix sur les deux, ma luron lurette
J’avais le choix sur les deux, ma luron lure

Je n’nime pas Ti Toine
Dondaine ma dondaine
Il est trop paresseux, ma luron lurette
Il est trop paresseux, ma luron lure

J’aime mieux mon ami Pierre
Dondaine ma dondaine
Il est trop vigoureux, ma luron lurette
Il est trop vigoureux, ma luron lure

Il m’amene a la messe
Dondaine ma dondaine
Aux vepres quand je le veux, ma luron lurette
Aux vepres quand je le veux, ma luron lure

Il m’amene me ramene
Dondaine ma dondaine
En petite charette a boeuf, ma luron lurette
En petite charette a pied, ma luron lure

(Duhks)

Temps Que J'Etais Jeune (Gabriella's Jig)

Ah! Du temps que j’etais jeune
Dondaine ma dondaine
J’avais deux amoureux, ma luron lurette
J’avais deux amoureux, ma luron lure

J’avais Pierre et Ti Toine
Dondaine ma dondaine
J’avais le choix sur les deux, ma luron lurette
J’avais le choix sur les deux, ma luron lure

Je n’nime pas Ti Toine
Dondaine ma dondaine
Il est trop paresseux, ma luron lurette
Il est trop paresseux, ma luron lure

J’aime mieux mon ami Pierre
Dondaine ma dondaine
Il est trop vigoureux, ma luron lurette
Il est trop vigoureux, ma luron lure

Il m’amene a la messe
Dondaine ma dondaine
Aux vepres quand je le veux, ma luron lurette
Aux vepres quand je le veux, ma luron lure

Il m’amene me ramene
Dondaine ma dondaine
En petite charette a boeuf, ma luron lurette
En petite charette a pied, ma luron lure

(Duhks)

The Charm of 5:30

It's too nice a day to read a novel set in England.

We're within inches of the perfect distance from the sun,
the sky is blueberries and cream,
and the wind is as warm as air from a tire.
Even the headstones in the graveyard
Seem to stand up and say "Hello! My name is..."

It's enough to be sitting here on my porch,
thinking about Kermit Roosevelt,
following the course of an ant,
or walking out into the yard with a cordless phone
to find out she is going to be there tonight

On a day like today, what looks like bad news in the distance
turns out to be something on my contact, carports and white
courtesy phones are spontaneously reappreciated
and random "okay"s ring through the backyards.

This morning I discovered the red tints in cola
when I held a glass of it up to the light
and found an expensive flashlight in the pocket of a winter coat
I was packing away for summer.

It all reminds me of that moment when you take off your sunglasses
after a long drive and realize it's earlier
and lighter out than you had accounted for.

You know what I'm talking about,

and that's the kind of fellowship that's taking place in town, out in
the public spaces. You won't overhear anyone using the words
"dramaturgy" or "state inspection" today. We're too busy getting along.

It occurs to me that the laws are in the regions and the regions are
in the laws, and it feels good to say this, something that I'm almost
sure is true, outside under the sun.

Then to say it again, around friends, in the resonant voice of a
nineteenth-century senator, just for a lark.

There's a shy looking fellow on the courthouse steps, holding up a
placard that says "But, I kinda liked Reagan." His head turns slowly
as a beautiful girl walks by, holding a refrigerated bottle up against
her flushed cheek.

She smiles at me and I allow myself to imagine her walking into
town to buy lotion at a brick pharmacy.
When she gets home she'll apply it with great lingering care before
moving into her parlor to play 78 records and drink gin-and-tonics
beside her homemade altar to James Madison.

In a town of this size, it's certainly possible that I'll be invited over
one night.

In fact I'll bet you something.

Somewhere in the future I am remembering today. I'll bet you
I'm remembering how I walked into the park at five thirty,
my favorite time of day, and how I found two cold pitchers
of just poured beer, sitting there on the bench.

I am remembering how my friend Chip showed up
with a catcher's mask hanging from his belt and how I said

great to see you, sit down, have a beer, how are you,
and how he turned to me with the sunset reflecting off his contacts
and said, wonderful, how are you.

-- David Berman

Bice Blue and the Continuous Present

    Past perfect — mode of leaving well enough alone,
          as in he had been here but left:
          flat hand of what can’t be undone now —
          not by revision, not by adjustment:
                  
doorknob screwed tight,
                   bracket for the cellar step at last;

    not like the simple past — thinly strung to the present
          as in he was here but left:
          airborne leaves in updrafts,
          dust caught in scratches on old windows:
         
          key in the Honda lock,
                   engine echo in the driveway;

    whereas the continuous present promises the world
          as in he is coming any minute now:
          bice blue sky with lissome swills
          morphing to elephants, rabbits, squirrels:
                   everyone romping around,
                   some with balloons;

    much better than the continuous future,
          he will be coming: ominous pause,
          reluctance in the form of an excuse
          left on envelopes under a hallway door:
         
          me still looking everywhere,
                   hoping for your return.

-- Lynne Potts

I Am Darling You

let me king around
you king all over, mighty

Bring a town in, okay,
add a country,

slavish all over me, please.

Darned mighty, sleeping,
oyster eyes.

Feel little. Little my head to sleep.

I suffer you, you basic.

Deign down, lean at me, chosen.

Judas Icarus.

He made enough for me to take to lunch.

-- Catherine Wagner