For French Girls
1991-03-12
Your tongues are turned upside-down, but somehow I'm still compelled by your ironwood black impossibly curled hair, spirals and spirals that shake nervously under your foreign laugh.
I don't understand a thing you say, I can't speak French, but I can read your eyes, amber eyes, the universal language of your pupils, lit up by the shine of your magic brown skin,
But maybe my tongue is upside down, or maybe my skin is too, too much duller than yours, or maybe my eyes are shut?