Bonsoir Tristesse Poem by Stephen Brian Brady
Bonsoir Tristesse
He saw is face reflected
in the convex of a spoon
and all the rim was indigo
and a curve of silver moon
the little god got maudlin
at the harbour-side bistro
when someone played Susannah
from a corner radio
and deeper into vin rose
verging on tristesse
he reached immortal limits
with American Express
Saturday, July 27, 2013
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4/26/2024 8:36:20 PM # 1.0.0.1119
