Étudiante

Rocked by a feeling (fresh-off-the-boat)
she clings to the side
blue eyes closed to inhale the
heavy air in this ancient port
strange smells and noises
weaving into the night
for reasons tingling and exotic

Here, there
at cafés on busy streets
wine and words flow
like electric currents
joining together
puzzle pieces of a place
She jumps in with a smile
as wide as the Red Sea
Je voudrais des escargots, s’il vous plait
trying on the foreign
playing with playing
la femme fatale or maybe
the sensitive come-from-away

Until a fisherman with almond eyes
shines the light of history
worn smooth and beige as an oyster’s pearl:
We don’t speak French here anymore
just a few words with the tourists

Tres drôle, she muses
plucking snails from their shells with a fork
how did she get here?
is the fog to blame
or did she shipwreck herself
in the roar of the conch
clutched too closely to her ear