a poem by Paul Hellweg (2 of 2)
Alone in Paris
city of romance,
city of lights,
neon green yellow red,
motorcyclists sans mufflers competing with
bicyclists without helmets, both dodging
le city car.
Living the fantasy,
drinking boilermakers at a sidewalk cafe,
corner Rue de Unrequited Dreams and
Boulevard of Misspent Life.
Paris, loneliest city in the world,
Eiffel Tower flashing on the hour.
As lost here as at home,
I know nothing, understand less,
except Orwell's down and out.
Beauty approaches, recedes, approaches,
again and again. I watch. I wait.