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That year in Paris you took Dostoyevsky’s novel Crime and Punishment to read when you weren’t touring the sites and you became so immersed in the book that you became Raskolnikov and killed the old woman and her half sister and looked about the streets you looked for the detective Porfiry whom you suspected was following you about and as you sat in the Champs-Elysées or stood by the Arc de Triomphe you thought of all the famous who had stayed here in this fine city Henry Miller Ezra Pound Hemmingway Debussy Van Gogh and that fanatical conqueror ****** with his sick smile under that silly moustache and that evening your brother in the hotel room puked in the bidet after sour wine or too rich food as you looked out the window on the Parisian street to see if Porfiry was out there waiting for you to charge you with the murderous crime you didn’t do.
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Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
PARIS 1973. (POEM)
That year in Paris you took Dostoyevsky’s novel Crime and Punishment to read when you weren’t touring the sites and you became so immersed in the book that you became Raskolnikov and killed the old woman and her half sister and looked about the streets you looked for the detective Porfiry whom you suspected was following you about and as you sat in the Champs-Elysées or stood by the Arc de Triomphe you thought of all the famous who had stayed here in this fine city Henry Miller Ezra Pound Hemmingway Debussy Van Gogh and that fanatical conqueror ****** with his sick smile under that silly moustache and that evening your brother in the hotel room puked in the bidet after sour wine or too rich food as you looked out the window on the Parisian street to see if Porfiry was out there waiting for you to charge you with the murderous crime you didn’t do.
terry-collett
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Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
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