Outside of Rennes births certainly happen
but I must escape the felicity
with a cimarrón perspective: strap in
independent thought and audacity

It’s a mental move, for we are stuck here
under the wincing willow I must sit
Lord, I could really use a nice cold beer
This sonnet is spoke straight from the pulpit

It is a beautiful life full of verve
and magic but with no “minorities”
since such people do not exist in France

What keeps me, though, is the finest romance
I have ever known – a firm, fragrant breeze
To feel its caress is to have the nerve.