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The Great French Collection
Before the smells are smelt
Before the lids are lifted
Before the bread is broke
The clatter of cutlery
The smelly gooey goodness
Smeared across chewy crust
Sipping red wine immensely
Pleasure provoking, slurping
Down sustained company craving
Before the built-up pillar of
The going nowhere French society
Takes place, the goods bearing collection
Must be carried out, about and home
See round here weekend feasts don’t tarnish
With sad supermarket’s all-inclusive ways
No, these feasts are sanctioned
By way of town square mingling
Building blocks of stocked shops
The association of people and place
Intrinsically woven into
The very means of living well
Like the trod-on stone pavers themselves
Built up to be something grander
Than the single simple act
Of exchanging money for food
The well-dressed seasoned troops
Sent off to collect cliché goods
Distinguished men with newsboy caps
Fruitful woman with pressed jackets
Squinting with idealistic eyes
Through round metal spectacles
Through lavishly plump acetate
Bucherie, fromagerie, boulangerie, patisserie
Bonjour, ça va? Oui, ça va?
Cemented relations of the highest order
Slowly pointing at piled goods
Smelling through future’s vision
Familiarity of fortunous food
Weathered mouths becoming
Wet with excitement
Doing rounds until lists are ticked
Leaving with brimming bags
Of raw and potent potential
Baguettes protruding proudly
Swaying with rhythms of creaky hips
See, these breathing relics of prestige past
Have danced this eager dance many times before
Yet somehow even though the score is known
There’s a youthfulness in their movements
There’s a delightful charm in their small talk
They’ve held onto what it means to be French
Through the modern world of fast food and cars
They’ve retained the romance of the great collection