Chez Pigalle
I knew we’d be there until
Closing time.
Laurent pulled down a
Bottle of Armagnac
As the streets cleared
And night clouds scattered.
“Partytime,” Laurent said to
Her and me.
The hour of cigarettes,
Lifted glasses to health,
Dipped baguette in
Escargot butter.
“Schwarz auf weiß,” she
Said with a knowing grin.
I dipped another piece of
Baguette into the hot butter—
Ecstatic disintegration.
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