From 'Winter Dreams': No. 22 (In translation) & No. 24 (These boots are made)
by Laura Hinton
[ poetry - may 04 ]
From Winter Dreams
No. 22
(In translation)
Today I had my blood drawn in euros for three seventy-eight
Trois sounded like trente, so I made her write it down
C'est tout? C'est n'est pas vrais? I say, but,
Mais, you can always pay more, this is France
The superiority of the word, l'infermière
to have red lipstick smeared and a bow up tight
to be so much more feared than "nurse" up bossy
and bold, not an infirm person or a fermièr
caring for horses and pigs but another false friend in a laboratoire
full of grey men in sweaters up with the dawn
which happens quite late in this Southern French town
God these people don't postpone anything
especially not the worst things
like having urine and body parts drained
until the body runs dry
in repeated drillings for fluids
Isn't my American blood worth more in euros than three seventy-eight?
I feel the needle like any other prick
I too have a lipstick
But I don't feel like dressing for the laboratoire
where grey men in sweaters look like they have to go
where teachers in four syllables used to whisper in school ("laboratoire")
if you moved too much in your seat or boys pinched their pants
speaking as if they had lived in France
before I began dreaming in French
and euros were comparable to dollars
and swans walked the ice flows of the Hudson
and I slept with pigeons on Cote d'Azur sands
and Paul in Paris used to shout, Pigeons! and call them Paris dirty rats
before we put our arms around the Alexander Bridge
and noticed there were no euros at all
and the Italian lady in her hot-pink shawl
who sits every cold winter Sunday in the café
where she never pays
says in Italian and French, What's that?
jingling euros in her hand
destroying my concentration
as if euros to dollars were not perfectly matched
in the native tradition of credit to sense
in translation
in the economy we write down
never succeeding
to be tight and lean
Paris has its problems
the Southerners make a list
especially since it has had the misfortune to snow
Planes waited three hours on the tarmac at Charles de Gaulles
they say the Minister of Transportation was having lunch and forgot to order the plow
and all the revving engines of the little Renaults and Citroens
their regiments of license plates all in a row
- 07 for Ardeche 83 for the Var - from A to V
sat on the northern Paris periphery
24 hours while babies screamed
telephone portables went dead
and mothers lost all connection to the French world of containment
not a single rescue team was seen
and they even had to pay the toll upon leaving
We nod, we are shocked
though the disaster feels not real
where the palm trees sway Southerners say
I must translate a kilometer a minute
as if I know what a kilometer is a minute
as if I know the worth of the dial on my car
as if I know the vocabulaire of the couterière
who my husband calls Motor Mouth
ever since we gave her chocolates for New Year's
feels obliged to give her opinions
we can never get our hems done
our waists expand we can't close our pants
or hear about the Northern ministers and LePen
as if this was not the French Riviera
as if I did not come here to sleep with pigeons
then her husband shows up at the atelier
has a few words to say thinks we're all best friends
chimes in chain smoking she doesn't look up, ripping hems, just
rips right along with him
The frozen fountains, the ice sheet of the Seine
Who would have thought Paris would go into a deep freeze?
that the river would rise up and form a plastic lake?
Marilyn writes that it's all media hype
But it is New York I dread
the deep freeze without dreams
Lyn writes it is so cold that she has a cramp
Helen writes it is "rough"
My husband writes that he is so cold that he's a snow man
My son doesn't write at all so cold he is
mainly getting from place to place in the destiny of his dreams from Brooklyn to Manhattan
a great concession to wear a hat with ear flaps
But dreams here are difficult, too
Inside one, I tour a house
someone is renovating it
my husband is in the dream
(he is not the renovator)
I wish to surprise him by arriving early at the house
before he's in the scene
I walk into the house and hide behind a damask curtain
in a novel by Henry James, I watch the blank
window of snow
I see that there on the bed
all fancy made, in puffy linens and piles of spreads
a lump appears
the lump moves and breathes
they tell me (this is all in French):
"We put it the lump there purposely
to make it look as if a real person is sleeping"
A model home
and a person without a head?
This sight I dread - even in French, in a dream.
but I may have missed something
in translation
So I keep my opinions about the bed
in my own head - in English one is
skeptical but one
accepts the inevitability of the purpose
of dreams
My purpose, really,
was to surprise my husband
so this is not my translation or
renovation
A puny dream, I am a puny dreamer
Such is my operation
The lump could be gas
or pregnancy, of course
but let's not forget that the lump is headless
I read Maureen Dowd on the internet
who's scoffing at Bush and Company's
current and former presidents' idea
(they have one "idea")
of class
they think it is wrong to speak about class
since we are all equal anyway
Laughing, I want to send this article to everyone I know
but I am too lazy to even drive down the hill
taking in the sun presumes
there are differences they couldn't count
Remember when Poppy Bush went to Safeway
and was amazed they had price scanners?
He thought they just gave it to you
the pickles and jam, the steak sauce and barbecued ham
So let's bomb Iraq
because with pilots on amphetamines anyway
they're going to bomb some place anyway
Let's ward off dreams
Let's jump
into the next translation accident
No. 24
(These boots are made)
i was in the shoe store and was buying shoes in the dream but then in the dream i was attracted to boots i needed them chic and warm long fur all around the edges angora or a wild cat not just edges but about a third of the boot was long and hairy chic and warm i needed them those booties so i asked the price i was always looking for sales in life like in the dream i love sales the boots on sale they made me feel chic and warm in the dream looking at the boots i realized something strong something wrong strong that i was a shopping addict
one that
tried to resist the boots in the dream but found i couldn't the addict one was too strong so i dreamed i was Lucille Ball and hid the fact i was buying the boots from my husband in fact
they were such a great deal marked down all the way from
$$436
chic and warm
dollars all the way down to
$$150
chic and warm
dollars but because it was no longer summer but
chic and warm
winter the boots were marked back up to now
$$300
chic and warm
dollars so
chic and warm
i said and what a deal i am attracted to the feel of the boots i need them
chic and warm
angora or wild cat so i won't tell my husband the fact and i didn't
tell him
the only part i didn't like in the dream about the boots was the sole reversal the side of the sole containing not a little dial not a phone like the detective from Get Smart in the '60s but
a big dial that went round and round and the dial had no purpose i did not know why the boots chic and warm
had a dial
And thus the dream ended on a lie
My husband said this is not a liar's dream but a dream about walking away
