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38 Last Night I Dreamed I Stole the Croissants I was stealing in French, stole tender crescents with a translucent glaze, crusty and raspberry filled, stole light clouds of pastry layered with butter, glistening like Antoinette’s baubles. I stole the moon, I stole la lune, took le voyage dans la lunette. I was the cow, la vache qui rit, laughing and buoyant in flight. I stole the sea, la mer, and la feesh, that jump and dance in the moonlight. I stole the night and the stars, and wrapped them in silver shaped like the neck of a swan . . . Oh, don’t be jaloux, cher, don’t foofaraw like blue jays and chimps. (They can become jealous too.) It was only one night (cinq minutes dans ma coeur), 39 and, oui, some oozed with chocolate, sadly, none ever touched my lips. ...

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