IMPROVISATION #17

Normally here in Paris
they congratulate me
by throwing themselves
into the conversation
at this bookstore cafe
even at this late date
as I collapse
from exhaustion
embarrassed at my attempts
after this poetry reading
to get my bearings
one woman
in a flowery orange dress
devouring a croissant
even putting aside
her breast feeding
laughing incessantly
at my many variations
of finding paper and pen
I am thinking philosophically
(in silence to myself)
at my green tea bench
if the French translation
of Baudelaire
was ready to share
with the audience
after there is applause
at my book signing
with one informed child
named Jean Pierre
about nine years old
(in my recollection)
taking my collection
off the shelf
when are the others
were sold.