Rachelle Bijou
Forget Monet
New York may be bracing
for storms
but Paris is absolutely balmy
with people bracing
for nothing more
than more
champagne
Luxe, calme et volupté
Walking by the hyacinths—jacinthes
in front of Plaza Athénée along avenue Montaigne
these February days
you come to know
why odor in France is l’odeur
The Seine ’s gurgling
while the sun
—a dead ringer for a Don Flavin—
lances across the water
Matin Plus
—late again
and yes I should take the Métro
but the moment I leave my apartment
rush to the corner
turn left
am accosted by the winter sun
—an orange headlight
no Pantone number can approximate
Alors, it ’s down the block to the bus
et voilà!
Alma-Marceau and off I get
with no intention of taking the shortcut
to avenue Montaigne and the office
—at least, not with the gardens
around François Première
still spiked with roses
in early December
Soon Woody Allen ’ll be playing Châtelet
Meanwhile
Kadifi ’s—Quaddafi—Gaddafi—Khadafy ’s in town
