I remember when
I was seven and my grandmother
with a pall mall
hanging off her lip,
a manhattan in her hand,
said that the cab driver
who picked her up
at penn station
was driving like
a bat out of hell, which
she followed with,
excuse my French.
for years I wondered which
word was French,
I analyzed the sentence,
breaking it down
word for word, but
had no luck.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment