Lost In Lille 2011
After the Chunnel
Night
Luxembourg bound
Porsche Boxer
180 KPH
The Ambassador behind the wheel
Moi
Un passenger
The embassy’s unofficial writer-in-residence
Through the Hauts-de-France.
Flat
Same as Belgium
Jacques Brel’s
Le plat pays qui est a mienne.
Eyes shut
The flatness screened
On my eyelids.
Safe on the Autoroute
The ambassador behind the wheel
Luxembourg three hours away
Sleep
Wake
Well past midnight
On a bleak urban street
Not a soul in sight
Nothing says where we are
But I know.
Lille
I’ve been here before
With the ambassador
Behind the wheel
A wrong turn on the Autoroute
Lost before
Lost now.
The ambassador says one word
“Lille.”
I nod without a word.
We have been here before.
I point the way
I have my father’s sense of direction
Soon we are unlost
Luxembourg bound
210KPH
The ambassador behind the wheel
My dear friend
The most beautiful woman on the autoroute
Me
The embassy’s unofficial writer-in-residence
Lille lost in our taillights
At least until next time.