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poetry

The French Kiss is a Conspiracy

The French Kiss is a Conspiracy

Last evening I went to the theater
The kind where you can buy a glass of wine but it’ll come in a plastic cup
which is okay because you’re supporting
the labor of love
When the protagonists kissed, I knew
they were faking, because it’s a play
and also because they had no chemistry.
Still, what the hell were the French thinking? I wonder if it started out as a trick. Can we fool the world into
touching tongues?
I sort of hope some actors sometimes realize that almost anything is better than touching tongues, even pretending to.

By jtp

Joanna Tova Price has a lot of heart.

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