my Camden girl (a 1973 romance)

we met beside the Regent’s Canal,  

she was reading La Peste  

in original French 
 

I straightened a Gauloise -

in a cloud of smoke  

and rive-gauche poise  

spoke,  

 

‘j’adore Camus, ‘Sisyphe’ surtout’ 
 

her eyes firm on her book, she asked,  

‘would you imagine Sisyphus happy?’
 

stalling, I stroked my chin 

she broke the tumbleweed silence,  

‘smoke?’ 
 

I lit her cigarette 
 

she smiled, ‘I’m Jeanne’ 
 

‘bonjour, Jeanne,  I’m Sebastian’ ... (I lied)

we stared at the green-ink water  

and swans at swim 
 

to herself, 

'if love alone was enough...’ 
 

the swans serened  

out of sight  

behind a sinking houseboat 
 

Jeanne sighed,  

‘swans pair for life…’ 
 

she looked me over 

liked what she saw,  

 

‘we are strangers,  

yet we might share  

a discreet ‘liaison’  

amid the madness  

of this crazy city’ 

 

I found a profound reply,  

‘we are all strangers –  

strangers to ourselves’  

 

her Disque Bleu flipped into the stream,  

 

‘then, let’s be strangers no more -  

great loves may spring  

from revolving door  

or towpath  

chance encounters…’ 
 

sharing cigarettes and Beaujolais  

we walked labyrinthine streets  

to a discreet mews 
 

Jeanne opened a narrow door  

into a bijou pied-à-terre 
 

taking my hand  

she led me to a boudoir  

saturate with her pleroma 
 

we loved until dusk  

we shared my last Gauloise 
 

Jeanne sighed,  

‘il est temps que tu partie’  

 

‘will I see you again?’ 
 

‘bien sûr, cherie,  

je serais toujours  

là pour toi’ 
 

dazzled by the prospect  

of carefree love,  

I lost my way 
 

now I trudge tangled pavements  

sifting yellow clouds  

of hazy memory, 
 

and haunt the banks of the Regent’s Canal