culture shock

tracing cobblestone streets with worn out shoes at 2am

finding the perfect hot chocolate at a corner cafe

tasting pastries with the euros i don't have

a penniless poet

avoiding the Eiffel tower because tourists send pricks down my spine

Paris was never what we thought it could be

the city of love 

la Ville Lumière

croissants and luxury

terraces and park picnics

minds in the clouds as bodies walk off the plane

and the clouds are endless--everyone smokes here

i hope you're ready for lung cancer

so you came here to be a poet?

breathe in the smoke darling.

poetry is toxic and beautiful 

and get ready to choke--your words will never compete with theirs

its only your third day in, and you feel like they bribed the publisher

..favorites can be changed..

keep telling yourself that.

two weeks and you're always coughing

still trying to find a small apartment near your favorite cafe

looking for the Eiffel tower and forgetting why you came

tourists weren't meant to stay, love.

this city isn't for romancing your mind

so take a rain check for falling in love and check into the nearest motel

find the cheapest cafe and the smallest room in the city

maybe the street's crowded, but there's bound to be someone who saw your heart spilled out on these pages

its your fifth month here and you've made a friend or two

you still don't sleep well, but the moonlight was always your inspiration

you keep in touch with the waiters at your favorite cafe and they know your regular and your heart

avoiding the Eiffel tower because tourists send pricks down your spine

thinking back, still scared to know you were one

people move in and out of the complex but you've found a terrace house down the street from the cafe and don't really mind the constant changing of neighbors, only because you know who the real residents are now

neighborhood-known poet and in love with the city of fears you faced and mirrors replaced

a city of broken love

a city of new light

constant changes and nights of hunger--

a city that whispers hope into your steps

welcome to paris, darling.

welcome home.

the publisher

~JQP