Inspired by a trip to Paris |
We got a little lost on the way to the hotel Walked down a street of cafes Full of young people smoking, drinking, talking The sound was of laughter and connections The next day we were on the Eiffel Tower in the rain We got stuck in a rusty lift till WD40 set us free Then we looked down on Paris, classy and large We walked on the glass floor watching tickets fly Into the wind as we strolled on the sky Every other Frenchman seems to smoke The girls look chic with scarves, shawls, and skirts Even when it rained the cafes had people seated That sat under awnings contemplating But where are the birds? Later we saw a few pigeons Scared sparrows and a few rats also We watched the French drive German cars badly But somehow never crashing The smell of croissants in the air A city of concrete and stone scarred by time Full of ghosts and memory Laced by iron bars of buildings and bridges The noise of traffic and voices Paris is always talking A man on the balcony near Notre Dame Was he the one who flicked the burning ember At night the bright lights blaze Paris never sleeps, cars and sirens People talking in the cafes Masked on the Metro Bodies crammed close The French were a head shorter than me in the main On the tube, everyone puts on a mask Eyes staring away from eyes We went to the Chateau of Versailles Where Louis XIV was more Trump than Trump The train`s announcement was in Mandarin But no Chinese tourists here today Sun shining over tower blocks on our way to the palace The man owned France and built this home Inside a vast space where he owned the horizon Fountains. paintings, gold leaf roofs, marble tables, Ornate wardrobes Gardens, flowers, carved bushes Aristocrats on call Pictures of corpulent women and fat men The biggest with the finest clothes looked like the king Fancy tapestry chairs and dressing screens Churchmen and generals show deference to the king Lend their reputations to his glory Everywhere an appeal to the ancient world Of Greece and Rome Caesars and gods from a pagan past. The fireplace a room-sized hole In a larger space Hall of Mirrors overlooks lakes on different levels Stretching to his horizon Diamond chandeliers glitter with light From a thousand candles There were few birds in the garden Impressive stairways lead upwards to Pagan chambers, marbled floors, and walls Perfect geometric patterns Royal emblems and flowers and leaves carved on ceilings His bed seemed too short to sleep in Maybe he was not that big a man An ornate clock welded into a mirror beside his bed Time would run out when he faded to dust And was no more These flower pots are prettier Than flower collections could ever be The pictures are filled with nudes Celebration of fat young bodies All looking towards the king A triumphal column to celebrate victories Walls of paintings commemorate battles won Defeats were forgotten and irrelevant To the glory of France, of Napoleon and the Sun King The memory always of greatness A solid mass of people and then the word pardon Parting the ocean like Moses with a word Back in Paris on our way to the Louvre A castle with a pyramid And buildings filled with art We strolled for hours until our feet were broken Saw art from all the greats Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, and the Hammurabi code We saw the Mesha Steele and idols from the ancient world Then collapsed in a heap The plane was late as we left But my daughter and I Talked like Frenchmen in the airport Wanting to fix global politics and demanding New revolutions for a better world. |