may all your towers Eiffel slowlike
and may the snow from skies be scant
Oh and may your peasant wicker basket
be filled with long, rich loaves and
deep aromatic cheeses from creameries of
the lowlands And may your bicycle hamper
clink and joggle weighed down with Chiantis
I hope you may sleep drunken upon
Baudelaire’s tomb wrapt warmly in a blanket
with your arms around a slightly drunken woman
dreams and dew competing in the morning
to be the first to kiss your eyelids

poetry by Ian David Arlett, graphic by Ward Maxwell