Route 7 Review - Page 21

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