Puny silver-haired Frenchman and
his underage Anthropologie-clad
mistress -- all her decades of lace and old-fashioned
frill, his brown checkered pants
cinched at the waist
by a belt pulled too tight, complaining
in high-pitched French tones, there's no
eggs at the buffet! then
smiling beside himself at her
seated glance of approval while
the Lisboan scrambles
for his, the sound of one, two, three wet
smooch, making himself
an escargot of it all.
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