Monday, October 5, 2009
Rue Daguerre, 8:56am
A shop keeper rearranges his display of tomatoes.
Merci, and an exchange of brief kisses.
A fair-skinned lady in a dress far too snug for her backside fixes strands of hair in a store window reflection and the light turns from red to green.
Poor man, you sit patiently on your rug under your doorway in your rags and I have nothing that would satisfy you.
A butcher in a soiled apron stands behind a glass enclosure of slaughtered fish, exposing missing teeth with his head cocked back in a hearty chuckle.
Two small, elder Asian women wobble in stilettos and a boy races home with baguettes cradeled tightly in his arms.
A sturdy man of business holds his briefcase pacing quickly eyes turned up and doesn't notice the change of unforgiving pavement.
A deep voice barks LES CREVETTES, IMBECILE but the shrimp is already overcooked.
Free samples for early risers and lovers meet for cigarettes at the corner cafe.
In floral print and tassled bangs a wife helps her hunch-backed elder grandmother and she knows her time is near.
A careless hand flicks ash on my shoulder and aged cheese and fresh bread warm the crisp morning air.