marvelous

the day starts in french with

paroles de pervert and café

allongé on the terra couch,

tiptoeing through a language

nearly forgotten, a language

i learned to discuss long-since-

grown children with their teachers,

what is, faire du cinéma? i ask

my youngest one day after one

such meeting and she laughs

at my accent, says it means

make a big deal adds, but

don’t make a big deal, it’s

only words, but words are a

big deal i don’t say then even

though they are mere approximations

at meaning, even though there

are multiple ways we convey

meaning, even though as we

age it all gets mixed up in a

big balagan in the brain, and

later this morning walking up

allenby still ruminating on

démons et merveilles i pass two

two altecockers across from a

building demolished in the war

sitting at a card table on white plastic

chairs smoking rolled up cigarettes

and they say bonjour and without

a beat is reply bonjour and they ask

how i am, i answer très bien even

though i’m not très bien because

i don’t know the french for meh,

for, i enjoy breaking bread with

my husband and son, but miss my

daughters and my mom, for i’m

grateful everyone is healthy but

worry about war and elections for

i love reading words but often struggle

to understand and wonder if wonder

is enough… but i don’t say any of

that and follow my bien with et vous

and they smile and say merveilleux

and i wave and say à bientôt, and a

few minutes later as i’m nearing the

shuk i remember, come-si come ca

which is truer than meh, and i remember

the poem and the two old men, merveilles

and merveilleux