Paris in the Fifties
Is the last book I bought at the used bookstore.
It sings with romance, with champagne, baguette, and brie
I will read it in a crinolined Chanel dress
And Audrey’s sunglasses, and my feet will not hurt in my high red heels.
We will walk in the steps of Julia Child to Cordon Bleu and find the haunts of James Baldwin, Edith Piaf, Sartre, and Sylvia Beach.
We will live la vie en rose and drink cafe au lait and eat croissant.
I will kiss someone under the tour Eiffel and he will murmur j’taime
We will dance by the Seine, look across the rooftops of Montmartre,
and make love under the vast Parisian sky.