I dreamed last night you were Anna Karina
And it was like I died and went to heaven.
You wore a white silk tunic, like Athena;
From one to ten, your beauty hit eleven.
You touched my cheek and whispered: “Ah, mon cher,
Together we will rule the avant-garde.”
We kissed. A great voice thundered out: “BEWARE!”
The voice of God. (Or was it just Godard?)
We stole a vintage Chevy. You said: “Drive.”
We only stopped to drink at seedy bars.
You handed me a loaded .45,
For Life is just a girl, a gun, and cars.
And when I die, the coroner will claim
The bullet in my heart that has your name.
Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells