French was easier when I thought forks
married knives to make spoons,
when I knew the number 7 was a girl
and green, and 8 a sturdy purple boy.

French was easier in Paris, where one word,
fromage, in context, got me a sandwich
of  lettuce and gruyère, not a teacher
prompting, "Je voudrais acheter. . ."

French was easier for promises to meet
that boy at Maxim's, New Year's Eve 2000.
French was easier before I learned
my ancestors were from Alsace.

French was easier before Japanese invaded
my neural network like a ninja team, releasing
he and she and singular and plural and every
article from my foreign language cells.

French was easier before future conditional
tension, before cholesterol, before mimes.
French was easier with a rocking horse,
a box of chocolates, and a sword.

French was easier that snowy evening
you and I invited elephants to tea.

Published in Four Chambers

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