La Langueur

Summer is for speaking French

When long syllables sweetly pull and push

The warm taffy of succulent sound

 Pouting soft lips,

Word-bits to be kissed.

Even bad French is good French in August.

Slouched against a green door jamb,

With half-closed eyes you say simplement, “Oui,”

An aperitif to hand

Flowers trailing your hair.

Only in warm, liquid langueur are we this sexy

Redolente, epanui, réussi.

Doing nothing….absolutment rien,

L’ agente provocante

Of remarkable nonchalance.

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