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Matthew Senn
Faire Belle
He’s sittin’ where he always sits, drinkin’ what he always drinks: whiskey ‘n’ water. Sits just about the end of the bar, just enough to catch glimpses of hisself in the mirror, his tired green eyes look like he’s seein’ a ghost. He never talks much, just sips on that whiskey all night, gets up to take a piss when he needs to.
Never pays nobody no mind really. Friend a mine said he talked to him once. Said when he was young, he fell in love with a French lady. Fell in love in one night. He said after all the times he’d seen her, he still couldn’t speak a lick a French. He could only recall one thing: Les Fruits de Mer.
Fruits of the sea. It’s what the French call fish and all that what comes from the ocean. The old fella said he just liked the way it sounded. Maybe because she was saying it. Les Fruits de Mer.
About the writer:
Matthew Senn is a 31-year-old poet from Grand Rapids, Michigan. He is pursuing a degree in Writing at Grand Valley State University.
Image: The Santa Fe Coach by William Herbert Dunton (1878-1936). Oil on canvas. No size specified. By 1936. By free license via Wolfgang Sauber.
OJAL Art Incorporated, publishing since 2017 as OPEN: Journal of Arts & Letters (O:JA&L) and its imprint Buttonhook Press, is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit corporation supporting writers and artists worldwide.
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