what is libido, by the way?

what is libido, by the way?

an umpteenth scene of coitus

shaking with ecstasy 

languid, sated from the front or back 

brushing against a breast without saying so

the desired sitting cross-legged

taking in the sights to boot 

watching her luxuriate in a Moorish bath 

 

and chant the little she utters

 

a shaman once said he'd seen life

frolicking across the plain

he hallucinated it and couldn't believe his eyes

he made a sketch of it on his skin

an invitation to trance 

a bottle-green ribbon between thumb and forefinger  

 

 

stranger, by the way 

what country do you come from 

your face is familiar your sorrows too

that nostalgia in the corner of your eye 

that laughter of yesteryear

behind a closed door

the stranger

the door to an address I can't find 

and it was cold that evening and out of absolute indifference  

the others barricaded themselves

 

your first bite was insipid 

powdered milk wine

bitter that night 

in that shrunken den

your words atrophied in public and in private

lack is nothing, power so little desired

but a salutary drive

this quest for self in others

 

 Ah the labyrinth of solitude

this meandering passage

this crossing far from home 

this fatal face-to-face 

in the mirror of his origins

 

the disarray on the other bank of the Litani river 

landmarks disappear 

it undermines from within

grief indifference

the mind in turmoil

 

then lack activates and represses 

speech falters and sounds false 

verbs no longer have the same object

and onomatopoeia blurs

in this wall-less labyrinth 

whereas emotion takes precedence

 

in this chiaroscuro 

the journey is endless

the ego fluctuates desire wavers

then one morning of embrace 

a lover brings 

full of joy

 In the interlacing of Left Bank, the sun is bland, the air sober, the women run up and speak loudly beneath their veil of hedonism, handed down from generation to generation. Where we come from, they say, culture is typically Left Bank, morals are Left Bank, women are Left Bank, men are Left Bank and we have Litanian friends who make us Mazalé, we love Mazalé. 

We love life, we're a part of this life anchored in this land since the Jeanne you know the priest who baptized us and then there were the Maurice, and the Danton, it was one evening at the 14^th party, I met my future wife, she was wearing a short skirt, I remember, and we got married and left countryside, for the City, we lived in a studio, and worked hard, I remember the first Litanians, we didn't talk to them, we saw them in the distance, in the suburbs, it smelled of Litani

 

Then one day during a strike, there they were, in front and behind, with the same slogans, the same hardship, because we were all in the same boat, we had to earn our lunch, ah they were dignified, the Litanians. 

 

And then one day there was war, and there they were, front and back, with the same weapons, the same convictions, because we were all in the same boat, we had to win this war, ah they were brave, the Litanians.

 

And then one day there was love, they were there, in front and behind, with the same hugs, the same caresses, because we were all on the same boat, we had to love, ah they were sweet, the Litanians.

 

Then there's our culture, you see, our laws aren't respected, you see, we don't understand each other and yet we speak the same language, but the Litanians have different gestures. They're not like us. This one's well integrated, a job, a house, it's better than in Litani. 

With us, you either like Left Bank or get out. 

I say it's the Malmenés who are the problem. They don't belong here, it's not compatible you see, they've got that thing on their forehead, it's not compatible you see, they can never be … how to say…., it's not our culture, you see, it's contaminating everything, we'll pay for it one day, the Malmenés, it's not Left Bank no, I don't think so.