Poem for Kiki

(Désolée M. P., c'était nullement mon intention de vous plagier ...)

You said you wanted a poem
I went to the market and found
Rows and rows of yellow sunflowers
and red tulips
Men and women probing dead and live
merchandises
But no one to sell me a poem

You said you wanted a poem
The cleaning woman swearing at the vacuum cleaner
The abandoned dog howling in the abandoned car
The phone ringing with unknown faces begging you to buy
unknown things
When will I find the time to find you a poem?

You said you wanted a poem

It was the downpour on this late day of March
Keeping me in and making me think
I could just sit down and make you that poem
The way cobblers made shoes
Not for their children
But in a strange quest to make friends of
weary feet and restless mind
dreaming of the miles and miles still to be covered

I’m your cobbler, and you’re my feet
Will my love make these shoes soft and strong enough
for you my love?