This summer Ottawa had the freedom
of your forbidden unveiled .
Passagers of our spiceship ,
gossips drifting down the river !
We loved each other
in a tornado of wild blueberries
and some intimate coconuts .
You were a fruity testing virgin
offered to the sacred totem ,
Ottawa in love turning our sun dance...
In front of the window
that opened onto the night ,
clothed on your splendid nakedness
you tackled some caramelized improv\'s
on your guitar, offering me
a trebble key to heaven
in fugitive chords
who enchanted Bethoveen !
I contemplated you
emerging of sleep
like a kitten stretching out
on the shores of a cloud ...
beyond the morning bridge
it was so much fun
to have a speaking french coffee
and a few crunchy croissants ...
Life was this delicious gobbledy gook !
Do you remember that summer in Ottawa
when faces had not silenced masks ?
You laughted in the acid of the cherries,
ruddy juice drawing a volcano
on your lips, ma cherie ,
that I savoured and carried away ,
vagabond on the carefree living brandons...
The sweetness of the indian summer
passing by without a glance
for the human that doesn\'t fly !
A flock of wild geeses heading south ...
It\'s winter in Ottawa ,
the window has closed ,
cold stare\'s totem , evil spell
and the white man arrived ...
You took your guitar
running away with Santa,
playing for the cats
running across the rooftops ,
so far from Ottawa ,
so close to my heart ...