Michael Amitin

She said it was the hashish that caused her
Schizophrenic breakdown rhapsody in the rocky mountain night
Her father drank himself balmy by all means

Thirty years doin time for ancestral crimes
Woven through nightsoft lullabies
Half french half anglais.. three quarters gone
Hangin on by a thread

We met on the rue with the madcap motos buzzing by our tired
Weary late fiftyish toes
My ash blown eyes fighting off the urban snow

Pure, ebullient as a harmless child
In a harbor where trust runs mild
She’d scream her salutes
Whirring past the heads of the big town brutes

Her father editor of new stories friends to the hip
Well pops here’s a new story you can hear
From your tombstone your daughter dear
Is alive and well and kicking frost in the boneyards
of big top Paris

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