Claire’s Knee (Rohmer, 1970)

I see flourishes of dreamy curiosity buzzing around your head, while you flap your gums endlessly about the long strands of life unwinding from your fingertips. You loved a boy out of boredom and then you made him eat grass out of shame. You loved another replaced him with another, before they all bruised their knees begging for one amused twitch of your nose in their direction.

Your voice drones on, as you lose your fingers in my peppered hair, and I bite my lip in mischievous daydreams. I am terrible for enjoying this game of yours so much, terrible for being so inviting to your impressionable curiosities, but luckily I’m marrying a sturdy woman, and I could finally stop giving into the naive lurings from girls like you. It’s a curse I must bear, my soon-to-be wife understands, of course.

Lay back in my arms, and lose yourself in my wispy recitals of my lovers past. Feel my chest rise and fall while it hums out the notes of your loneliest fantasies, and pass me the wine so I might remove the unmistakable taste of grass from my mouth.