Club Météorologique
In Club Météorologique
we don't care about climate and weather. we write on tarte-tatins, by punctuation
we gift our Saturdays to each others
to test the echo of this space
we speak our mother tongue
we read our work loud
Le vent gonfle mon balcon
my balcony is swelling
a girl come shout to the people live in the next building
"Heyyy, what are you doing, don't pretend to be dead"
we hang her voice on my balcony by clothespin
til next Saturday