Monday, May 16, 2016


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



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