Montage jump-cut

Michel Poiccard: a portrait

~ Je choisis le néant.


(White jut of cigarette, black slant of hat brim)

I. Theft

A 60’s Italian-made sedan bares to his hands. Wire, spark-to-wire,
engine roar. Monte Carlo, une belle accomplice, recedes as the wheel pulls north.

II. Murder

The autoroute is silvered French countryside. A firearm found in the glove compartment: shoot the sun.

A pursuit of motorcycles. Dump the body. Make a run for it. The uniformed torso in the brush shines through to the highway. Allez, vite!

III. Sex

The Eiffel Tower rises up, up. Cigarettes and her sheets. Une américaine in Paris, a blonde, Pa-tri-ci-a ! His hands find her skirt, her legs. No more music (Bach) or books, he says.

IV. Death

Betrayal is blonde. Found: motive (he loves me not). Police screech onto the scene and fire the requisite dry shot. Clutching his back, the warmth spreads. A street-length stumble, then the fall à bout de souffle.

The pallor of her face then nothing, then noir ( ) : FIN