shaded by a sun hat
in the south of France
reclined on a lawn chair
overlooking the Mediterranean.

Parliament smoke lingers
in my frizzy black hair
but I smell like lavender
from the fields of Provence

my fresh preened scarlet nails
rhythmically tap the flute
of '95 Roederer Cristal
while I wait for my
Edmond Dantès
imprisoned--
to become seasoned
like my wine.

I grow old & impatient
yet still I'm waiting
for my dear Dantès
wherever he may lay

making sure my brow
won't furrow
and i eat bone marrow
so my lover will see
me just as he had left me
- - -
young & beautiful
sitting by the seaside-
my long smooth legs
stretched and glistening
in the sand where we
drank together,
bottles of cheap wine