I’ve fallen back into it
after ten days across Quebéc:
le français.
I ask for directions
to the marché d’alimentation,
locals’ mouthful for grocery store.
When I need to flip a new Bic
for my foul habit,
I manage to sputter
Es-ce vous avez des aloumettes
pour les cigarettes?
I get by at la pharmacie
searching for the equivalent
of Citrucil and calcium supplements,
find Glucosamine, Condroitin the same
in both my languages.
I pepper my days with la langue romantique.
the length of the Gaspé and back,
via Le Vieux Quartier in the provincial capital,
through the messy mélange of Montréal’s
expressways upstream on the Saint Laurence
to the western border into Ontario.
I learn to say yes all over again
like a native Canadienne of perfect accente nasale,
repeating oui, oui, oui all the way home.
© Karla Linn Merrifield
Used with the author’s permission.
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