an imaginary Carax
 

Five summers ago I was invited to Paris
to give readings and lectures and have 'office hours' -
no teaching, over a two month period
at the Sorbonne...

I hated Paris, from the one time I'd been there before,
just as I hate New York City... it's not the dirt,
nor deperation, I feel quite at home in, say, Chicago...
but these two metropolises float on a great lie

like the woven reeds under Mexico City -
I feel I'm sinking...

Anyway, taking it as a tremendous opportunity,
but mostly as a holiday - away from the kitchen
for two entire months, mid-season... and having
no responsibility always appeals to me - a room
was arranged, I'd be giving readings every Tuesday
and a lecture, of my choosing, every Friday,
and was required to sit in an office, and take
any graduate student in, who happened to wander by
on Thursdays, from 1pm to 4 pm.

It's like a three hour plane ride... I cabbed to my flat,
unpacked what there was, looked out from my tiny balcony...
then curled-up on the too-soft bed and slept -
out of boredom.

That next night I read poems from 'A Mash of Things Potential'
to a crowd of maybe 40-50...
Juliette was in a front row center seat...
nobody could miss her

But it came off well, I think - at least, two students showed-up -
we talked 'post-modernism' mostly... which is strange
when one considers my work... well, we worked it out...

then, at the last second, Juliette stepped-in -
I was ready to go home.

'Um, hi... take a seat... I didn't know you were a student?'
'I'm not.'
a strong pause
'So, what?'
'I've heard your poetry, I love poetry... is it true you are the greatest poet alive?'
'Um, no... there's stuff happening in Urdu, for example... a few Chinese poets are writing incredible stuff, and Akhmatova... there are at least a dozen French and American poets who's work surpasses mine... let alone the Danish... I've gotten nowhere near Benny Andersen for example... he writes psalms.'

it was the best sex I'd ever had...

I went down with her on her filmography...
'The Lovers on the Bridge' (I was translating Danish to English) - but she knew the film I meant

'How?'
(me and my meek French)

'I fell in love with him.'
'You fell in love with Lavant?'
'Yes.'
'You fell in love with another actor so we could feel the love?'
'Yes.'

'So this is just an act.'
'Yes.'