Poem 142 -Baguette in the Village - written by me and our Guest Poet of the Month Yanky Ashkenazi ( Jack Ashken)

Baguette in the Village

By Saskia Feltz and Yanky Ashkenazi

The sandwich was as unexpected as our encounter

And the encounter is unexpectedly as nice

As the sandwich

Life presents opportunities as randomly and

With as little cultural enlightenment as

The process of choosing that

Cheese from the sea of other cheeses

All unknown like fish from the fishes

.

The village is pretty and warm, which

Makes the process easier and nicer

Even though the village is in France.

The French have never particularly fascinated

The pair, more strangers than friends

More foreign to this land as any, As they wait

To be ousted from their seats and munch

Yum yum.

The cheese in the baguette resembles France

In the way that it is on one hand hard and,

On the other, tasty. Hopefully, the next sandwich will be

As yum yum.

Intelligence is his signifier, what is hers?

Sandwich maker extraordinaire.

à la prochaine fois. Une baguette au village.

Yum yum.

Poem 141- And Tomorrow

 And Tomorrow 

It’s the end of a week

A week without expectation

Without connection to reality

To original perception of

All those I never knew

Before and am unlikely to

Know again.

The quest for relaxation

And happiness some way to

Its completion only marred

Slightly by French chanting,

Arm pulling and waiting

In the freedom of this encounter

I have learned a great deal

More than I expected to

I came without expectation

With nothing to gain

Animate yourself, take your

Face from that awful chick

Lit book you bought at the

Airport, speak French to

French people who couldn’t

Care less and fit the rules

And line drawn by those who

Have been before

Know yourself more than

The other know you, your

Job is not to orchestrate

Their ease , unless you too

Are at ease.

On Monday my real life

Begins again and I will

Soon forget the praise for

My impromptu bus performance,

The wink from that Dutch gentleman,

Your journey with

Its google translate sign

Posts, that 5 hours on the

Porch and how to ecstatic

I was when you won.

And tomorrow I will wish I was here as I

Drive my beautiful new car

Down the road the same way I

Will drive for the next year,

And tomorrow I will try

To remember.

Poem 140- Crying at the Airport

Crying at the Airport

They mourn the loss of

Purity and achievement

They scream for a permanent

Release  from their real lives

They ask for one more day

Or invite from their beloved

To adventure with them in

To the abyss of time

I have no time to waste saying

Goodbye to you, no

Tears to shed, this was fun

She said as she packed her case and pretended

Not to care as they both boarded coaches that would

Take them back to reality.

“I forgot I could do that” she said to us

outside the bungalow, “connect to someone else

in the short term, just pretend we live her

in the bubble, like this is all

There is”

But there is more than stolen

Kisses, from a man promised to Paris

And game play. “ I am an adult woman

What do I need with a teenage fumble and

Kisses on the shoulders and back.”

Soon she will find someone to

Match her enthusiasm

And kindness and this

Will no longer be negative

Or a signifier. Kindness is

A plus. No need for the

Intricacies of confusion

And sour taste.

She will succeed in all

Areas, she is just that

Kind of girl. She star in her

Own life.