I've only known one French woman
this one in Minneapolis, married
to a French executive at a
horse packing plant. The French,
apparently, not only eat
snails, they also eat horse meat.
She had eyes filled with life's disappointments
though she was still young and pretty.
Her husband was aristocratic, old, and bald,
like a crumbling French chateau.
I didn't know what she was doing in Minneapolis
married to an old bald guy who worked
at place where they killed horses.
Back then, I didn't know enough to ask.