Pistachios of the sea piled high in heaps
\nstill tangled in their unscrubbed iodine
\nbeards, animate rocaille against which
\nare set in glossy not to say slimy
\niridescent rows\u00a0racasse<\/i>, mullet, John Dory,
\nconger, their inert but unglaucous eyes
\npeering up at saffrony mid-day while
\non another makeshift stand, translucent
\nhusks peeling in wisps from involuted
\nheads, rise mounds of fresh garlic, makings
\nof a fine bouillabaisse I shall not eat.<\/p>\n
I dream a little and lift the chill
\nglass goblet, in whose milky contents
\nfloat opaque bluish cubes, up above
\na red-checkered table cloth and a basket
\nof bias-cut crusts of crisp baguette.
\nThen, lip-synching towards the dappled patch
\nof cobalt sea beyond the ovate hulls of moored
\nyachts sleek in the soft sun, I utter these words
\nas they form in my mind: \u00e0 la bonne mienne<\/i>.<\/p>\n
This is no museum. This is not even
\na glossy coffee-table book. No still life
\nsmells of Gauloises, geraniums, marine gas.
\nThe cobble rim of the wharf has not been built up
\nin layers with linseed oil, though where sloshed wet
\nby chop splashed from below subtle highlights
\nhave been made to gleam. The background babble
\nof a thousand words in Proven\u00e7al French
\nis part of this picture, like appetite whetted
\nby anisette, pushing me at the riotous pull
\nof lives I only imagine but long to slip on,
\nclothes which I would then be able to slip off.<\/p>\n
Soon, over his aproned paunch, the gar\u00e7on
\nwill slide a porcelain plate of crudit\u00e9s
\nbefore my eyes, an idea I had never
\nentertained, like artichokes, aubergines,
\nlike a kiosk, newspapers on display,
\nlike this place to sit, eat, compose, thoughts
\nto be sure but this pastiche as well, in which
\nsignal flags flap in a stiff onshore breeze,
\nfa\u00e7ades scintillate in undulating
\nplein-air, windows open not in, not out,
\nand the concavity of a simple spoon
\nreflects everything contained.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Pistachios of the sea piled high in heaps still tangled in their unscrubbed iodine beards, animate rocaille against which are set in glossy not to say slimy iridescent rows\u00a0racasse, mullet, John Dory, conger, their inert but unglaucous eyes peering up at saffrony mid-day while on another makeshift stand, translucent husks peeling in wisps from involuted … <\/p>\n