Claire’s Knee



I have so many memories.
Transpose away,
Six years isn’t long,
among the nettles.

at the foot of the mountain.
your whole life ahead of you.
It’s like a cradle.
We’re friends. Classmates.

Lovers have to to get away
sculptural tableau.
Careful of the thorns.
Campers are complaining

If I’d caressed her with a finger,
How? Her body?
I broke the spell I told you about.
My little affair is evaporating.

Mother’s presence
A desire for nothing.
twists around whatever I say.
I don’t like living

He’s nearing the sun.
For some, it’s the nape of the neck,
he pretends to look for it
with little trace of hostility.

Actually, everyone wears a blindfold.
It’s a dangerous game.
A nicely told story.
How strange that we’ve never

Place your hand on her knee.
I had only to extend my arm
It’s not possessive.
Would you please remind her

Daddy died. That’s different.
My coffee grounds predicted
I thought about the pleasure
Does it still hurt?

Send me a postcard.
No, it’s behind the pine trees.
Their own logic drives them on.
A caress has to be accepted.

It was the magnetic pole of my desire,
In six years of knowing her,
The weather’s changing
while the torch makes him think

I think about how there are happy times,
every single pear in the garden.
the waist, the hands.
meaning I was never in love

your armour’s so impenetrable:
After Mother divorced,
up in the mountains.

She was sad, and I consoled her
That hand was above all insipid,
Pure desire.
falls in his garden.

You’re a magician.
She’s in love with you.
It must be hard being separated,
I know. I was one myself.

she began confiding in me.
to make love gently.
But his toughness is all show,
mixed with fear at being unable

This gentleman watches
She kept crying and had no handkerchief,
a gesture of consolation.
Please keep away

At 30, very few are still beautiful
It reminds me of a novel
All this beauty can be exhausting.
Her knee was sharp,

very impressive mountains.
in my path, so I take nothing.
those two lovers,
We were far from the shore.


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