je ne sais quoi

It’s that indescribable something    
that everyone,    
fucking everyone    
talks about    
when they’re in loovvvve  
 
In French it’s je ne sais quoi,    
which, while flowery    
and lovely,    
can also mean    
“I don’t know what it is.”  
and how delightful could    
it be to lose    
that in translation    
   
But I digress.    
I have no interest in    
the bullshit tonight    
Maybe next Thursday,    
or in leap year,    
or Talk like a Pirate Day,  
but tonight,    
I know exactly what I need  
tonight I need my words    
because I want to clearly    
paint the face of a bitch in heat    
and the panting tramp that mounts her    
bites the back of her neck,    
and gives it to her with no preamble,    
grinning at himself the entire damn time    
while she feigns disinterest,    
but pushes back with each thrust.    
   
It’s not quite so poetic,    
that image,    
not quite so flowery and bullshitty  
but that’s OK because    
that part is clear,    
and I can articulate it.    
   
You see,    
my French is really lousy,    
and I’m sure I’d    
lose    
(god no)  
something vital    
in the translation    
something I can’t...    
someone I...    
It’s just that ...    
   
... I don’t know what it is    
   
I only can’t describe    
the je ne sais quoi of    
us on the    
inside,  
darling    
   
And why would I ever bother    
to delve there for meaning    
when the words I want    
are so clearly    
traced in the pillow    
I’m face down against,  
muffling the occasional cry    
as I pretend to remain    
untouched  
   
and disinterested    
   
as you drape smiling    
kisses behind my ear    
and hand me a dictionary,    
filled mostly with    
   
four    
letter    
words