A march, parade, I don't know, lasts at least a mile, no idea where's the end. Today trains go on strike because government wants to raise retirement two years. The workers say, Non. No more trains until we work a compromise. Horns blare from a car following the drum line which followed, after 5 minutes or so, a truck with speakers shouting chants. I have no idea what's happening. Looks like a holiday.
I.M.E.
Chateau de Branson
CGT
SDIS49
firemen? Truck goes, parade stops, shouts through microphone: Un, Deux, Trois! everyone runs forward. Table ahead of me sees friends in the parade. They decided to take the day off, but skipped the strike.
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- brian
- from denton, texas to portland, oregon; new mexico to new york; austin to southern arkansas; south korea and france, I write. http://www.carcinogenicpoetry.com/2010/02/brian-gore-one-poem.html
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