Les Enfants Terribles

It is a true story
my narrative of this grand prix night in 2017.
I went out for dinner and drinks on Bernard street
in Outremont. It was a gorgeous night in the city.
Everyone in the world wanted to be in downtown #mtl
but we preferred the quieter streets. The waiter
took care of me like the lost lover I never had.
He catered to my every vegan need. I know the
love I need I will never get. I found that out
on this night. It’s not that men can’t love me,
they do, too easily, it’s that they can’t love me
like the waiter did. Only, he was being paid for it
so truly, he did not love me at all. Even though
he spoke of his ex-girlfriend who was a vegetarian
as we were alike, I knew that he understood some
part of me that no one could.
Who’s gonna love you like I love you? kept popping
into my brain and singing along to no one.
I had some beet salad minus the goat cheese
and quinoa with kale, it was quite delicious.
We talked and cried about love.
We talked and cried about love.
Love can be so cruel to eight-year-old girls that
remember every cut that their parents sliced
with unintentional conditional so-called love.
Love can be balanced on one foot until we fall over.
The moon is full and weirdos like us inhabit the streets
The sign says we can only park until 23h59
but it was not a joke
it was a Cinderella night with no princes.
The men from Marseilles told us stories
painted pictures and discussed how stumbling over
ladies on terraces was worth their miserable night.
So they sat down and filled our sadness with smiles
and eighty-four-year-old French man from Marseilles
named Prospero is still looking for a wife.
How can you laugh?
“arrangent tes cheveux” he smacked his nephew
with the rolled up menu
and we giggled and lied our way out of the night
to get St-Viateur bagels.
Then Waverly place for last call
and what happened there
luckily was not caught on camera
and our faces are not all over Facebook
over how we are still the young teenagers
at heart that continue to make wrong choices.
The night was over when we laughed
at how we can get away with things even at
our age and how we truly were
“les enfants terribles” like the restaurant
we ate at and talked and cried
how love has no answers
only questions.

Photo Credit: Dani_vr Flickr via Compfight cc



Christina Strigas

Christina Strigas is a poet and author. She has self-published three poetry books and is a writer for MuseItUp Publishing. She is currently working on publishing a romantic novel. Her website is www.christinastrigas.com. All her books can be purchased at all on-line bookstores. She is a graduate of English Literature from Concordia University. She lives in Montreal, Quebec with her husband and two children.

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