I saw Christine Lagarde outside The Wellcome Trust with a trolley case.
She was wearing my scarf — the scarf I had when I was thirty two:
a scarf with white dots on royal blue, or should I say French navy? —
the very essence of what a scarf should be,
which, in red, would be the scarf of the swagman or children’s book burglar
but in blue remains jolly while suggesting tradition.
Now, I admire Christine Lagarde and I support her policies.
I believe the life of Christine Lagarde is something worth aiming for.
I admire Christine Lagarde, but that is no reason to confer on her my scarf —
the best scarf I ever had, the perfect scarf, which I have looked for ever since.
You have taken a liberty, Christine Lagarde, guardian, lawmaker.
Where is the life I would have led if my scarf had stayed with me?
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