the night i moved to Cholet.

it had been a week full of dust in Alegia

though it felt like a month or more.

i slept on the old mattress, that i'm sure ached with fleas

and i hadn't experienced allergies before this

and it was early in july and i had nearly succumbed to heat stroke in Seville the week before.

though here now, i loved this little goat farm in the basque hillside

Txindoki peering at us from the distance


we sat in the garden and ate nasturtium flowers.

i know i wanted to be in paris, for god knows what reason, depression probably

but it was the hay fever and fleas which drove me back to France.

so we left late in the night, they put me in the back of the van and i sat quietly 

and i slept.

we passed through bordeaux in the early hours on the morning

i could taste the french country side and dreamed of bathing in a tub of wine

we sipped passed Cognac and La Rochelle sank into the sea of darkness as we left the night sky.

there were many traffic circles and the grasses of the roadside wondered of my soles,

i waved to them from my vinyl seat.

there was an invite to lunch and a table full of french amenities 

i ate and thought of trains and cigarettes and dark liquid

they left me in town

and i wish i could remember our goodbye, 

but all i see are the streets of Cholet.