La familiarité tue

En l’espèce, je suis bien moins maniaque que Barthes et je les vois donc habillés ; mais tous ces gens-là avec leurs têtes différentes, me dis-je, ils sont tous accoutumés depuis longtemps à leur gueule, aussi bizarre soit-elle, et leurs proches aussi. C’est seulement moi qui, en les rencontrant pour la première fois, les vois tels qu’ils sont – ou ne sont justement pas. Dès qu’on connaît le quidam un petit peu, la plus étrange des figures nous paraît normale. Mais quoi en faire, de cette durée ? Si l’on la fréquente assez longuement, le visage de la mort devient, lui aussi, une évidence. La familiarité tue.

Gradually, she sort of became close to that guy
And I’m tempted to say: dangerously close – but
She knew I was jealous and wouldn’t take it further.

Even if she was lying in bed with him
Grim Reaper smoking his cigarette beside her
I don’t think they actually made love.

So, when I came in, usually a bit out of it
And saw them both like that
No real need to explain.

I knew this couldn’t be adultery
They were just sharing the space, the way
One may share it with a close relative.

The only problem:
She’d talk
But Reaper wouldn’t.

Completely at ease
Simply smiling
Simply grim

He calmly waited for her to be ready, and as
These composed fellows always do
At the end, he got her.

Should I say once in his hands she was no longer herself?
Should I hope it was her shadow?
I gladly convinced myself of one thing:

She wouldn’t give him what I had with her, so
Nothing more pointless than my all too human jealousy
And still, I hate this grinning face more than anything else on earth.

June 21, 2026