Dessert
Nothing but joy and physical sensations To discipline the will on a desk pad Here’s the embrocation stiff as a poppet. Mark me if it concerns an assassination Principally in the military sphere There’s nothing left for me to say Head in my hands I take the resolution With the help of a puzzler let fall from the lips To kiss an American on an ocean liner A few mouthfuls of tea put on some pajamas The English light in my memory It’s an upper-case envelope Let one get the smell of it the trick’s played On the surface with practical means automobiles It’s a problem and good exercise All those clichés there of most charming people With their unwillful brains Always look like a well-dressed game. For I’ve learned as well the names of heroes As of fine photographic turns With the content of French windows. |
Francis Picabia