We are having French class
Down the street from shack houses
With fenced-in, chain-link front yards
Where Pit Bulls smile with tooth-sharpened vigor
Inside our class, it’s a smacking reminder of the late sixties
And the color-coded dreamers that made it out of here
The Eiffel Tower is taped on the wall
Hiding a large plaster crack
The other decorative pictures are:
A field of lavender
A table for two
And one large baguette
‘Sil’ vous plait,’ they’ve got it down, you know
If we squint profusely,
Perhaps the Champs Elysees will unfold in front of us
Like a magical wonderland,
A walkway to Oz!
And we can float like fluffy French pastries
Past the promises of our birth
Past the metal liquor store
That maps the side street taken by bums and tricksters
Past our inherited lot in life
About the Creator
Lana Broussard
Lana Broussard writes primarily under the pen name, L.T. Garvin. She writes fiction, poetry, essays, and humor. She is the author of Confessions of a 4th Grade Athlete, Animals Galore, The Snjords, and Dancing with the Sandman.
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