Early, early morning
My first steps in Paris out of the Hotel Beauchamp.
The sky slowly gathers the day’s first rays, spreads them sparingly,
the air almost cool but damp,
the searing August heat, building,
teasing, planning a grand entrance.
Left, right, then straight ahead to the Champs-Élysée.
A stranger approaches, I try to catch her eye to smile.
My heart rises but her eyes remain fixed beyond me.
Left or right?
The Pont Alexandre III or the Arc de Triomphe?
I glance in both directions for a sign.
The breeze scoffs its impatience,
gives me a firm push to the left.
“Sacré bleu, the grandeur of the bridge awaits you.”
Smiling and keeping
a friendly grip on my shoulder, an audible laugh
as if sharing a joke with old friends.
I do not speak French but, je comprende, somehow I understand every word.
Mon ami, move along quickly or the moment will be lost,
the tourists will be out soon!