Lost In Lille Again 2011

After the Chunnel
Night
Luxembourg bound
Porsche Boxer
The Ambassador behind the wheel
Moi
Un passenger
Through the North of France
Flat
Same as Belgium
Jacques Brel's
Le plat pays qui est a mienne.
Eyes shut
Still seeing the flatness
Safe on the Autoroute
The ambassador behind the wheel
Luxembourg three hours away
Sleep
Wake
Past midnight
On a bleak urban street
Not a soul in sight
Nothing says where we are
But I know.
Lille
I've been here before
With the ambassador
Behind the wheel
A wrong turn on the Autoroute.
Lost before
Lost now.
The ambassador says one word
"Lille."
I nod without a word.
We have been here before.
Luxembourg bound
Lost in Lille Again

The Flat Fields Of Belgium

In my youth I would sleep at the end of her bed on a velvet settee listening to murder mysteries on the radio as the headlights from Main Street heading to the midnight shift at the SD Warren paper mill played over the mural of trees on a flat French field painted by my grandfather's patient.

They had both served as doctor and nurse in WWI.

January 1982

I was hired as doorman at a Paris nightclub and drove the owner's car north to pick up the DJ in Bruxelles.

220 Kph

Autoroute

VW GTI

Fast but not the fastest car on the highway.

Passing through as Jacques Brel sang LE PLAT PAYS QUI EST A MIENNE.

Unchanged from 1917.

Now at peace.

The flat fields north of Lille.