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from 1989

an old man stood on a bridge
looking down at his reflection in the water
which became a cast shadow
on a barge passing by
on its way to Brazil
on board the ugly sailor’s beautiful wife thought about the rose
she carried in her teeth
to make her lover laugh
last night
he sang her a song about a dying cowboy
and accompanied himself on a banjo
made in quebec
in the small shop in rouyn
a one-armed craftsman created string instruments
so light and delicate
that only lovers could play them
he lost his arm in a passing phase
and could also play the fiddle with his teeth
when he was seventeen years old
he played at the dances
where girls wore the dresses
that echoed the colours
of gasoline rainbows
one girl smelled desperately of rose petals
and a future senator
lured by such a smell
bared his teeth and followed her out the door
past the horses
over the field
down the road
between the trees
of a cottoned copse
where he fathered her first child
in the stacatto piano beat of the rain
with impunity
the rain fell on through the night
through the earth
threw of the scent of roses
of hunters
of beasts in the park
when it finally ended
the river was swollen
the bridge washed away
the old man drowned

no i lied

he bent down before the storm to rescue a flower
and brought it home for his wife to wear
because he loved her