Cupér

and so "y" is the most important for a place,
the pace of the walk which has then become a grey
and belly-flopping-50-year-old journey to
get rid of fat the quickly as then it can.

il-y-a but (af
ter joe, the belly-bearer got through the street
marching on sneakers and Ipod)
and i saw and heard the so-said
[eeee ] "y"

which was not what I
thought it should give me
(not the place, or the grammar-bid
understanding
nor the russian prep
for 'having')

il-y-a...?

"yail" came to me better for the ear
as clever as university,
but that would not make it clear
for then for her for that it had
not a meaning.
and i looked into her eyes
when there was not another Joe with sneakers
nor a Tobey running on sweaters

and Jeanette french-smiled-sadness
to me
for there was,
but something else as hard as
" c'est une fosse...
ma vie"
and further I just did not translate and just smiled-joker
with a floppy-poppy hooray-for-the-grey as
andrew decided to stay there in the road
checking the heartbeats in stopwatch

as she 'zhtonbrass' and sad raineyed action
there was not a fraction
of something i could make as
different as enchanting song française
and the sneakers of
le coq sportif got into it
got into it the motion
with no care for the heureussong
I was on and

zut, got on my nike and went for Louisiana.