English followed by une version en français y una versión en español.

I am aware that the noun “number” has been used colloquially to refer to a song, a dress or a young woman. For example, from Erica Jong’s 1988 novel Serenissima:

“Signorina Jessica,” says the maid, a saucy little number, “your father . . . demands that you come to the synagogue at once”.

That said, my attachment to the numbers on Vélib bike docks is to the numbers qua numbers. I am pleased to return my bike to a slot numbered 1 or 2 or 3 or 14, 17, 28, 33 . . . (Et tout cela même si les lecteurs français s’interrogent sur cette phrase : Je trouve des jolis numéros qui attendent mon vélo ?)

For more in this regard, see the Notes section.

With people of course it’s different

At a Paris bike-docking station you may have 50 docks:

“Bornes” or “bornettes,” we call them.

And they’re numbered, 1 to 50,

If the numbers haven’t fallen off.

And I have to say that quite a few of the higher numbers –

34, 45, 47, just to name a few –

They don’t do much for me.

But among the younger or more modest or more comprehending ones –

It’s hard for me to find a bad one. 13 perhaps –

There are days you don’t want to put your wheel in that slot.

With people of course it’s different.

Before doing any parking, you feel like you should get to know them,

And just a little is always better than too much.

And . . . I’m thinking about a group I draw with –

Happily usually. Except when, like this year, the bad weather drags on

And we all get a bit grumpy.

There are a few pearls and a few oaks. (I’m still talking about people, artists.)

And, of course, there are the few who do their best to spoil the experience for everyone,

Including the poor wonderful model, also doing her best, naked, shivering

In the middle of an election year, with other spoilers –

Or at least some of the wealthier ones –

Grabbing the headlines, gobbling our screens.

I’m pleased at least that when I go for a ride,

And if too many people haven’t already beaten me to the bornettes,

I find so many attractive numbers awaiting my bike.

Three Notes

[1]

The day this poem took shape, I happened to read some pages from C.J. Jung about how numbers mediate between the human world and the world above. Or, he also wrote, numbers belong to both the real and imaginary worlds, they are concrete and abstract, quantitative and qualitative.

This from Jung’s 1958 reflections on UFOs: Ein moderner Mythus, von Dingen, die am Himmel gesehen werden. The title of the English translation is Flying Saucers: A Modern Myth of Things Seen in the Sky. I have been reading a 2022 translation into French by Véronique Liard: Un mythe moderne: Des objets qui sont vus dans le ciel.

From a blurb for the English translation: “Jung sees UFO’s as ‘visionary rumours,’ the center of a quasi-religious cult and carriers of our technological and salvationist fantasies.”

[2]

As regards colloquial uses of the word “number,” Wiktionary offers, in addition to the above quotation from Erica Jong, similar ones from Janet Burroway’s 1968 novel The Dancer from the Dance and from Denise A. Agnew, Kate Hill and Arianna Hart’s 2005 By Honor Bound. From the latter: “He had to focus on the mission, staying alive and getting out, not on the sexy number rubbing up against him.”

As regards “number” meaning “an item of clothing, particularly a stylish one,” there is this from Lorelei James’s 2007 Running with the Devil: “I doubt the sexy number you wore earlier tonight fell from the sky.”

I note that all the quotations in the Wiktionary entry are from women writers. Do Wiktionary editors feel that only women writers now have the right to use the word “number” in these sexy (sexist?) senses?

[3]

Shortly after the original publication of this piece, I came across the lyrics to an old Rodgers and Hart song, Nobody’s Heart Belongs to Me, which includes the line “I admire the moon as a moon, just a moon.” This approaches what I was trying to say about me and bike-dock numbers.

Herewith most of the lyrics of this song which was written for the 1942 musical By Jupiter. In American Popular Music, Alec Wilder called this song “one of the loveliest songs . . . ever written. In the area of this form of music it is a masterpiece.” He seems to have been speaking particularly of Richard Rodgers’s music, but it is Lorenz Hart’s lyrics that interest us here.

I may be sad at times,
and disinclined to play,
but it’s not bad at times,
to go your own sweet way.

Nobody’s arms belongs to me,
no arms feel strong to me.
I admire the moon as a moon
just a moon.

Nobody’s heart belongs to me today.

Français

Avec les gens, bien sûr, c’est différent

Dans une station Vélib à Paris, il y a souvent 50 bornes –

Ou bornettes, si tu préfères – numérotées de 1 à 50,

Si des numéros en restent.

Et je dois dire que quelques uns des numéros les plus élevés –

34, 45, 47, pour n’en citer que quelques-uns –

Ils ne m’attirent pas beaucoup.

Mais parmi les plus jeunes ou les plus modestes ou les plus large d’idées –

Il m’est difficile d’en trouver un mauvais. 13 peut-être –

Il y a des jours où tu n’as pas envie de mettre ta roue dans cette fente.

Avec les gens, bien sûr, c’est différent.

Avant de se stationner, il faille au moins essayer de les un peu connaître ?

Et un peu vaut toujours mieux que trop.

Et… Je pense à un groupe avec lequel je dessine –

En général, c’est du bonheur. Sauf comme cette année –

Quand le mauvais temps s’éternise et nous devenons tous un peu grincheux.

Le groupe compte quelques perles, quelques chênes (je parle toujours des gens, des artistes).

Et, bien sûr, il y a ceux qui font de leur mieux pour gâcher l’expérience de tous,

Y compris la pauvre modèle magnifique, faisant son mieux, nue, frissonnante

En pleine année électorale, avec des autres gâcheurs –

Ou du moins certains des plus riches –

Défrayant la chronique, bâfrant les écrans.

Je me réjouis au moins que lorsque je vais d’un point a à un b

(Et si trop de gens ne sont pas arrivés aux bornes avant moi),

Je trouve des jolis numéros qui attendent mon vélo.

Español

Con la gente, por supuesto, es diferente

En una estación de aparcamiento de bicicletas de París hay unos 50 aparcamientos:

“bornes” o “bornettes”, los llamamos. Y están numerados del 1 al 50,

si los números no se han caído.

Y tengo que decir que algunos de los números más altos

-34, 45, 47, sólo para nombrar unos pocos-

no hacen mucho por mí.

Pero entre los más jóvenes o más modestos o más comprensivos –

es difícil para mí encontrar uno malo. 13 quizás…

hay días que no quieres poner ti rueda en esta hendidura.

Con las personas por supuesto es diferente.

Antes de estacionarte, sientes que debes conocerlas,

y sólo un poco es siempre mejor que demasiado.

Y… Pienso en un grupo con el que dibujo…

muy felizmente por lo general. Excepto cuando, como este año, el mal tiempo se alarga…

y todos nos ponemos gruñones.

Hay algunas perlas y algunos robles. (Sigo hablando de personas, artistas.)

Y, por supuesto, hay algunos que hacen todo lo posible por estropear la experiencia a cada quisque,

incluida la pobre preciosa modelo, haciendo lo que puede, desnuda, temblando…

En medio de un año electoral, con otros estropeadores…

o al menos algunos de los más ricos de ellos,

acaparando los titulares, dominando las pantallas.

Al menos me alegro de que cuando voy del punto a al punto b

(Y si mucha gente no ha alcanzado las bornettes antes que yo),

Encuentro números atractivos a la espera de mi bici.

— Poem(s) and artwork by William Eaton. The sentence on the artwork comes from the French singer Françoise Hardy who died, at age 80, on June 11 (2024). A translation of her words: As I’m a misanthrope, when I get attached to someone, it’s a big deal!