The Cafe is famous.
The Coffee is expensive.

I sit
on the self-same red and padded seats,
the original brass rail behind my neck,
the two Magots, ancient Chinese statues, 
hanging above my head.
Here, just here,
two ancient post war Intellectual Magots,
Simone-Lucie-Ernestine-Marie Bertrand de Beauvoir
and Jean-Paul Sartre,
sat as part of their ritual
living together.

The Chinese Magots hang there still
above my head.
The Intellectual Magots
float in the mists of temps perdu
within my mind.

Jean-Paul says
“At the moment of orgasm
the illusion is ended
and we return to ourselves.”
He spent much time ensuring
(with as many of everyone
as he could get hold of)
that scientific experiment
would always confirm this theory of his.

Simone says
“One is not born a woman,
but becomes one.”
She then invented herself
to become someone
who spent much time
wanting sex with everyone
of every sex
especially children
(but without having children).

Together they reinvented Philosophy
(the love of Wisdom)
as Serial Orgasm;
complete with a philosophistical
The most famous of her beloved “everyones”,
Nelson Algren, says

“J-P and S were bigger users of others
than a prostitute and her pimp in their way.”

J-P and S say
“There is no meaning to be found in the world
beyond what meaning we give to it.”

The Chinese Magots
still hang
in an eternal present.

The Intellectual Magots
still fade
in the unconsummated past
they made.

Ghosts still seeking mutual consolation.

The Coffee is still expensive.



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