Ema Dumitru


Photograph by Ema Dumitru

Godard’s southern France, wandering through scenes, like someone in a film. I cry to the rocks, they anchor me brave. I stay out as much as the sun, cruising down Èze in my ghost machine

in reverse. Whenever I have you on my tongue it’s the most beautiful climb. Sometimes I forget where I am. Running your hands down the sides of my legs, I always feel like

the stranger. Racing my used bullet mind down the coast in your youth. L’Interdit, mixed feelings, tough leather. White lines and double our shadows.

Holding happiness like a wheel with my own two hands. The kind you fall asleep at, the kind you crash

into an illusion. We’re not allowed love yet, only distance. Maybe she’s the wrong woman, maybe you’re the wrong man, love is always on the other side

of consequence. Go ahead, I say, tracing your neck with my ghost of an eye,
say goodbye to the dreams of the young, say goodbye before I can notice.