Tag Archives: Vancouver

Chez Victor

Chez Victor

I was about ten years old when Chez Victor opened

A fine French chef in a greasy spoon on Davie Street

My dad took Thursday afternoons off

Every now and then I’d go along

When school got out

On his trip to the University record library

Where he’d select the next few albums to serenade Sunday

We’d glide into downtown in ragtop cool

MGBing overbridge into urban madness

Inside this grimed café a door opened into Paris

They would flower into Brel and Becaud

Sliding into a fraternity of francophone

We would feast on boeuf bourguignon

Drink Mouton Cadet

Of which I’d sip


But with the borrowed insouciance

Of the 14th arrondisement

Whose child I wasn’t

But might have been

Traveling across possibilities into fractured reality

Quietly soaking up Gallic truth

Like the French bread in the broth

At the bottom of the bowl

David Trudel  ©  2013


Filed under Poetry, Uncategorized