Crimes Along the Côte d’Azur
By Jota Boombaba
1980
—Spring
My trespass takes me to the harbor
big-rock jetty, cool-blue bay
Monaco behind me, shiny gold
casino coin glittering in sunlight
Yachts roll in, wealthy drunks aboard
chopped duck liver, sparkling wine and cheese
I’m chewing cheese myself—Smiling Cow
stolen from a store this afternoon
Same as stolen glances, half-nude tourists
olive-oiled breasts topless in the sun
me a thief like those Arabs yesterday
snapping secret photos in Antibes
The train to Nice, a woman sleeps
we alone in our cramped compartment
bar of English chocolate in her bag
gone before she bats an eye: Merci
I slip away from the hillside hostel
sleepy village porches early dawn
on one, a basket—cold milk, fresh baguette
I snatch it like a furtive photograph
Down by the one-clock railway stop
I peel the paper lid, lift the chilly top
five dumb pigeons watch me break my bread
they peck at one another over thread