I am unhappy about your description of my life as dull.
It is dull but I dislike you using the word dull.

If I could I would unhook the receiver from the wall and
place it on your dirty mouth. I don’t feel able to elucidate.

If you hadn’t known the German for lose/lose, if you
hadn’t the face of Dürer as Christ in Self-Portrait of

Dürer as Christ, this could have been a whole lot
easier. As it is the slum donkeys of Marrakesh

surround me. They bray with hindsight. Their arpeggios are
pertinent—this is not a metaphor, this is the Blue Phase which

stems from the Beige Phase, which stems from taking too
much of a run-up, too much virtue signaling and fog. Heavy

duty fog. And if, as forecasts indicate, there is to be more
fog, Lord give me the strength to be dinky and circumspect.

Teach me to drink ouzo, wear falsies and smirk.

More Poems by Claudine Toutoungi