Paris!
You magical line of lambency!
Sparkled Champs,
Eiffel glow,
Musée d’Orsay.
San Chapelle rose.
Where have you cradled all of your people tonight?
My God, big city,
What have you done with the poor?
We don’t see them too much in Le Bon Marché.
Yum, tum, rum d’rum,
We love your seats,
Love, love your treats,
Love the repeats!
Your fine baguettes,
And thinest crepes.
The chocolatier?
Sip some liqueur?
Get an éclaire?
I don’t know where the man we saw begging for Euros on Rue Renne is sleeping tonight.
Avenue Montaigne?
Seine-Saint-Denis?
Svelte or slummed?
Head off or free?
Is it zinc or is it pink?
Or is it tin-bin-din-twin thin?
They tell me Paris is dangerous and I believe them.
I’ve seen the men with their fingers near the triggers of their automatic weapons.
They have bullet proof vests and watchful eyes.
They tell me Paris is safe, and I believe them.
I gave Euros to the woman begging on Rue Renne.
She was grateful and stayed on the ground.
No one grabbed my iPhone at Sacré-Cœur.
Money making
Career breaking.
Heart aching.
Muckraking.
Decor staking.
Royal shattered,
Revolution battered,
Art-splattered.
And yet still visited.
Still occupied.
Life-waker.
Vacation Maker
Reputation staker.
You are a floral print dress crossing the street.
The cool zippered leather jacket at the cafe.
Fashion rocket,
Pick-pocket,
Sight socket,
Destination docket.
Train-tracked,
People-packed,
Wine-racked
History-smacked.
Money-backed
Terrorist-cracked —
And yet …
Still ours …
Still the big bright-light-site for the whole world.
Modern Soliloquies & Pastiches 