happy parisians

parishioners in tweed

soft jacket leathers, head bowed, happening
to be a happy well-dressed wealthy bunch,
driving secure cars secretly, bending the lines
the wires the rules, careless thrown glances
carelessly dispensed kisses and quarters in bills,
leaving the scent of goldmoney elsewhere.

happily paris swelled under their feet:
the cathedrals; the river.
young lovers both gay and otherwise rolled
the cobblestones, rolled "mais je l'aime"
about their mouths and danced happy beats long streaming
hair made to drink, to be drunk, to own
their pale faces and sweat-soaked t-shirts
was all they could own and as content as two people
would ever know to be.

made of prayer and false confidence,
feigned humility. humble sweet lips and
ivory teeth, fragile monsters behind the shower curtain,
again picking crackers and wine for dinner
remembering mom's
word mom's warning from behind coral lipstick,
her head tilted hair falling
cigarette fingers moaning: "hate him until he loves
you back enough,
loves you to pay the gas bill."

you looked at your girl and laughed. the eiffel tower loomed
cold and unflinching behind you.