Douleur

            Lui vient entre les mains un texte de Michel Leiris issu du Ruban au cou d’Olympia. Un texte accumulatif qu’il lit et relit puis recopie sur du papier coloré :
                                                                                              Mon amante,
                                                                                              mon amie,
                                                                                              ma mascotte,
                                                                                              mon totem,
                                                                                              mon talisman,
                                                                                              ma manne,
                                                                                              mon chanvre indien,
                                                                                              ma mie,
                                                                                              ma mère,
                                                                                              ma mare aux fées,
                                                                                              mon murmure,
                                                                                              ma musique,
                                                                                              ma mire,
                                                                                              ma vigie,
                                                                                              ma terre,
                                                                                              mon rubis,
                                                                                              mon ruban,
                                                                                              ma rebelle,
                                                                                              ma lumineuse,
                                                                                              mon éclaircie,
                                                                                              mon embellie,
                                                                                              ma ribambelle,
                                                                                              ma moitié,
                                                                                              mon unique,
                                                                                              mon immédiate,
                                                                                              ma millénaire !
            Il s’essaie pour son amoureuse à faire de même et autrement :
                                                                                               Ma charmante,
                                                                                              mon tamis,
                                                                                              ma biscotte,
                                                                                              mon baptême,
                                                                                              ma p’tite woman,
                                                                                              ma musulmane,
                                                                                    ma charmeuse de serpent,
                                                                                              mon impie,
                                                                                              mon oiseau,
                                                                                              ma mare au diable,
                                                                                              ma berbère,
                                                                                              ma bernique,
                                                                                              ma lyre,
                                                                                              mon logis,
                                                                                              ma pierre,
                                                                                              mon fourbis,
                                                                                              mon turban,
                                                                                              ma toute belle,
                                                                                              mon amoureuse,
                                                                                              ma mielleuse,
                                                                                              mon enquiquineuse,
                                                                                              ma farandole,
                                                                                              ma demie,
                                                                                              mon tout,
                                                                                              ma châtelaine,
                                                                                              ma douleur !
            Il montre le résultat de ses cogitations à l’élue de son cœur qui le lit de tout son cœur.
            Elle lui dit, j’aime tout ce que tu écris, surtout si cela parle de moi, merci.
            Elle lui dit encore, j’aime beaucoup ma biscotte, ça donne envie de croquer et j’adore me faire croquer.
            Elle lui dit enfin, ma douleur, pourquoi ma douleur ?
            Il pense, parce que cela viendra, dans un mois, dans un an, un peu plus tôt, un peu plus tard, cela vient toujours.
            Mais il lui dit, c’est pour prendre du champ, élargir l’horizon, ouvrir l’éventail, un truc de littérateur.
                                                                           Michel Perdrial
(Ce texte a paru dans la revue Diérèse n°19 en octobre 2002.)