Maccabees
Colour It in
Do you remember, Michel, our short trousers, your long, thin and strong legs and the anger they gave me by running every day a little faster than mine.
Do you remember, Michel, our little soldiers who died in the heroic defense of the ramparts and were buried in a hedge with military honors invented on the spot.
Do you remember, Michel, the black bench in the third row, who listened to all the laughter, of two children who lived in a dream that will never be repeated. You remember, Michel. You remember, Michel.
You remember, Michel. Do you remember, Michel.
Do you remember, Michel, that I liked Garibaldi, but you said that he was a buffoon and that he certainly couldn't bear comparison with your Napoleon.
Do you remember, Michel of how I teased you,
for the limp R you had left, the only memory of France and your first home, of your friends up there.
Do you remember, Michel, how exclusive the tenderness was that united us, and accompanied our childhood until the days of the new reality.
You remember, Michel.
You remember, Michel.
You remember, Michel.
You remember, Michel.
Do you remember, Michel, how it displeased me, when you always talked about girls and the desires you had with two rather subtle eyes that I no longer knew.
Do you remember, Michel, when my short hair, it bothered you and you said that if I didn't stop acting like a child you wouldn't go out with me anymore.
Do you remember, Michel, that day we fought on the way home from school, with the schoolbag leaning against a column a stone's throw from the palace.
You remember, Michel.
You remember, Michel.
You remember, Michel.
You remember, Michel.
Do you remember, Michel, the day your mother died, that you cried so much that even the dog that loved you so much didn't have the courage to come a little closer.
Do you remember, Michel, how sad those days were, I really didn't know what to say to you and what confusion I had in my head and what amazement on your face and what a desire to leave.
Do you remember, Michel, those two goodbyes at the station and the tears coming down, when the car began to put pressure on you you had to get in.
Do you remember, Michel, how in a hurry everyone was to get the car started, while your carriage was slowly leaving, the fear returned. You remember, Michel.
You remember, Michel.
You remember, Michel.
You remember, Michel.

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