The Satori taxidriver of page one.
We discuss politics, assassinations, marriages, celebrities, and when we get to Orly he hauls my bag out the back and I pay him and he jumps right back in and says (in French) : “Not to repeat myself, me man, but today Sunday I’m working to support my wife and kids—And I heard what you told me about families in Quebec that had kids by the twenties and twenty-fives, that’s too much, that is—Me I’ve only got two—But, work, yes, yowsah, this and that, or as you say Monsieur thissa and thatta, in any case, thanks, be of good heart, I’m going.”
“Adieu, Monsieur Raymond Baillet,” I say.
The Satori taxidriver of page one.
When God says “I Am Lived,” we’ll have forgotten what all the parting was about.
