A post card from Mauritius

I like solitude in my words,

with female angels company 

and the flight  of bipolar seagulls

over the ink of some long oceans...

Falling asleep on the blue bay beach ,

a clumsy dodo would come to visit me ,

looking at me with its great trusty eyes,

big birds know no devil ...

A starship of  excentric aliens 

would land over the flanks 

of the old volatile volcano .

I'll invite the crew to tea

in the shade of an enchanted sega ,

mixed sea spray and trade winds ...

I would dial a rain 

and boredom epigram

for absents look  poets ,

just for the fun of hearing 

to a welcome message 

or a farewell  requiem ...

 Lonesome in a lost island ,

postcard from Mauritius 

stucks on your fridge ,

keeping the salty taste of my lips...

The dodo skeleton is cold 

at the museum 

and its empty stare 

doesn't understand  evil ...

Aliens were back on the metro

and earth continues 

to rambling around its 

lunatic moons ...

 It's just a plastic smile 

opens onto the frozen ...

You tell yourself 

that next winter ,

You'll be all  alone

in the blues bay lagoon...