A Winter Poem from the Past

It is very interesting reading poems from my journal. I have to restrain myself from editing the older poems, because doing so would alter my younger voice. This was a fun night in Canada. I will preface this poem by saying that the more wine I consumed, the better I spoke French. ;) 2073 rue St. Denis, Montreal In winter On exactly January ninth In nineteen-ninety-three Four American students (Snuck out of the bed-and-breakfast) stumbled into a place called Les Beaux Esprits. The musicians from Manhattan Played jazz and the blues Patrons cheering and smoking Speaking in bilingual tongues and one student conversed with the kindly bartender laughing and joking— in French. LLC/Winter 1994