POEM: “Bar de Courcelle (You Git)” — And his invites to drink / At the Bar de Courcelle / Was an invitation to everything I used to be / and all the hell I have once felt.
Bar Courcelle (You Git)
His broken English
Sounds horrid.
Like some Texan redneck trucker
caught like a fart in a helmet
pissed off at its own stink
spiraling in anger at the Montreal
traffic – and his too many drinks.
And by god if you could hear it:
You’d love it, and it’s hilarious!
“That them world” he’ll say
and the traffic is driving him “crazee.”
And the oddity!
And absurdity!
that emanates from his chiseled face
sounds so dumb, maybe put on
his “so good” this and that,
I loved it, and it was hilarious.
From the precision and wit
Nailed perfect in London
To this Quebec English
spoken so harsh to the ears
you’d cringe!
I just don’t know what to do with it!
When I was stuck in fuck, I got poetic!
But I’m done with musing
This is hardly a relationship!
Like talking to a circus side show
Full of mystery, intrigue and …
Oh – the longing.
The wide-open mouth
And varied tongue
And the comfort he felt
In my arms.
You’re going to get burned
You’ve already been burned.
And his invites to drink
At the Bar de Courcelle
Was an invitation to everything I used to be
and all the hell I have once felt.
And the imperfections
But a perfect nose
And a guy who won’t
let me let him go.
From the precision and wit
Nailed perfect in London
To this Quebec English
spoken so harsh to the ears
you’d cringe!
I didn’t want to go on this trip!
And I’m afraid I’ve stayed too long as it is.
We only need them to cancel the gig
And then we’d make love, have a baby
And … what’s the title of the next book…
You git?
Sylvie Hill, Montreal, July 23, 2019