Paris Encounter
04.8.2011 
How she intrigues me!
With her orange hair,
a fringe of ragged bangs
high on her forehead,
‘90s punk rocker style,
she sits in a corner,
leaning against the window,
gazes out at me
with such intelligent eyes.
She doesn’t look away;
she blinks, still holds my gaze.
What is this look?
I wouldn’t call it happy,
nor is it sad. Just aware.
Thoughtful. Musing.
She doesn’t seem to mind
my standing close to the window
talking to her in a low voice, enchanted.
She touches the glass with one horny finger.
Her breasts are gray over several folds of belly.
A shaggy orange cape, draped
over her shoulders, covers her long arms.
She grins wide, shows her sharp teeth,
and turning towards the glass, kisses me.
She glances up, looks away, shy,
gazes back at me.
There are giant branches of driftwood, dead trees,
thick rope and black tires in her house,
but none of that interests her.
She sits by the window, yearning.
I’d like to take her home, but everyone would object.
The gardienne would throw up her hands in horror;
our good bourgeois neighbors would be alarmed,
call a special meeting of the syndic[1];
even Marley le chat would be incensed.
Anyway, our ceiling is too low. In her native land,
she sleeps in a nest of branches she builds
65 feet from the ground, sometimes with a roof
to protect her from the rain. She’s a solitary
acrobate des arbres[2], athlete of the air.
[1] Syndic de copropriété, a board that oversees common property in an apartment building in France. Like a Coop board.
[2] Acrobat of the trees
Reader Comments (19)
Thank you! I've never looked into the eyes of an animal and seen so much subtle awareness. Whenever we enter this zoo at the Jardin des Plantes, we go straight to the leopards or the crowned cranes. But this time, it was this orangutan who held me there for almost an hour. She was really looking for connection.
Our syndic board is so conventional; they don't even approve of subletting. But the final decision was made by Marley, who shook his head in dismay. He picked us in part because there were no other animals in the house. Sigh.
Zoos confuse me. They're barbaric. Yet they give humans so much pleasure.
Love,
Kaaren & Richard
We like to amuse you!
Kaaren & Richard
I've never seen the Clint Eastwood film, "Any Which Way But Loose." Is there an orangutan character in it?
XO,
Kaaren & Richard
We now channel Clint in The Hereafter, but his orang movies were fun, if a bit dated.
--Richard
The poem and photograph have entered my heart this sunny afternoon, and I am in love with Her.
--Polly
We are in love with you!
And She wants to know if she can come live with you in Berkeley...? Is your ceiling high enough?
Love,
Kaaren & Richard
Lovely poem.
Is Bronco Billy a film with an orangutan? How did I miss this surreal bit of Americana?
Thank you for the appreciation.
Kaaren & Richard
Enjoy the beautiful day,
Christine Hueber
Thank you!
I'm looking forward to meeting you next week.
Best wishes,
Kaaren (& Richard)
reciprocate as soon as my fingers find their way to an untethered
keyboard.
best, hank - the bolinas gang
It's unadulturated joy to read of your enjoyment. I remember you running up and down the stairs of your Clay St. home in San Francisco, visiting Grammy Kitchell, and later visiting her together in the Sequoias. And later I remember you covered with mud on Kit and Gayle's land in Massachusetts. You were the laughing Mud Man! We've had similar adventures as Americans living in Europe. I look forward to hearing about your years in Denmark. And the adventure goes on.
Hope to see you again soon in Paris or maybe another family reunion?
Love,
Kaaren (& Richard)
Richard: The photo was the perfect finale. Bravo!
Thank you for this! She really was a foxy French female--but a woman, not a girl. I wish we had a bigger place.
Richard thanks you, too. Looking forward to the next installation of your screenplay.
Love,
Kaaren & Richard
I see you know these dear creatures. Yes, that's what they're called, hommes des bois. Jeanne Moreau... yes, a similar gravitas. I'm going to call her Jeanne. It had to be a name that has dignity, and I think you've got it. Poets are the "namers" of the world, performing Hermes' magical role. Thank you! And the guide in the PBS film you saw who commented on their long fingers...it was startling how female this orang-outan's face and aura were, yet how very masculine the fingers: huge, gorilla-like, ancient, horny. I'd love to see this film. I'll see if I can track it down. Thank you, Daniel. How great it is to be back in touch with you and Malika.
Love,
Kaaren (& Richard)