La collectionneuse (Rohmer, 1967)

You watch the words flutter from your mouth with a wide-eyed wonder, and playful twists of your tongue. You tempt me, with your lazy smiles, and your skin ripened from the sun. If I were a lesser man, I might find myself a fly in your trap, but you yawn, and crease your cheeks with another smile, and I wonder if maybe I am the fool. Would you be so kind, to cruelly entangle me?

I love to watch you dance, like a spinning top, never knowing where you might end up. From the beds you peel yourself from in the blinking hours of dawn, do your wincing eyes wander far? I think they do sometimes. I don’t think you stare at the spinning ceiling fan, and merely wish for cooler days, I know you think of me, and the wonderful games we can play. And if I were a lesser man, I might be willing to let you trap me, and show me what’s behind your smile.