Fresh and fancy…

Although Paris is lovely,

and I would go in a second,

with my recently renewed passport,

if I were offered an invitation,

one does not have to go there,

eight times,

to gain a deeper understanding,

of oneself,

or to find adventure…

One just needs to get on one’s bike,

and ride slow,

to a massage appointment,

for expanding perception,

in one’s own city…

I was known as the French Girl in high school,

at least by the seniors,

who had concerns,

that their ‘boyfriends’,

might want to do some shopping,

in other departments,

despite the fact that my department,

was closed,

due to the fact,

I was always looking,

for the boy in my dreams,

and he definitely,

did not go,

to my high school…

I guess anyone can be considered a threat,

to insecure teenage romance,

but a triple-barreled French name,

that you happened to wander into,

as a newborn,

seemed to appear especially dangerous,

to Catholic girls with Germanic heritage,

even though I was equally German,

and somewhat Catholic…

As an adult,

people say to me,

even while they’re palpating my abdomen,

on an examining table,

with their specialized medical degrees,

Your name is like a song,

Parlez vous francais???

Non, I grew up in Richmond…

I’m not as French as I look…

A doctoral student once said to me,

with big wide-eyedness,

and naive duplicity,

How did such an exotic creature like you ever come from Richmond???

I wondered what she saw,

and I wondered how she would have felt,

and how quickly I would have been crucified,

if I’d said something like,

How did a half-native girl like you ever get into a PhD program???

At least Marilyn Monroe and Farrah Fawcett didn’t pretend to be smart…

On the way to morning massage at the Highcroft Centre,

I unzipped my Lucky Brand Mexican embroidered hoodie,

at a stoplight of heavy traffic,

in this blasting September heat…

A man old enough to be friends,

with my father,

was making a left hand turn,

onto Quebec,

and as Mr. Step Van careened around the corner,

with his wide open door,

he whistled,

in a really like your peaches kind of way,

and then slapped his horn,

with such unbridled enthusiasm,

I anticipated some sort of collision,

into on coming vehicles…

This behaviour begs for inquiry,

into the question of,

How’s my driving???

and how to complement ‘nice tits’,

while maintaining,

a creative code,

of safety…

Note to readers: More on the Canucks and my VERY vivid dream of conversation with one of the Sedin twins about the Swedish elementary school experience when I can remember what we talked about…