I Love Paris Poem by Terry Collett

Sonya stood
on the narrow balcony
of the hotel room in Paris

I lay on the bed
reading Celan poems

she was in her underwear
and bra
smoking
a French cigarette

most of the great artists
lived here
at one time or other
she said

I looked over at her
her blonde hair
touched her haunches
her tight butt
smiled at me

most yes
I guess so
I said

can we go
to an art gallery today?
she said
I love the Impressionists
this is the place
to see them

guess so
I returned to the book

where are we breakfasting?

where you like

she exhaled
that little café
on the corner is good
she suggested

you like the waiter
the guy with the Proust moustache

nonsense
it's the coffee
the cake he provides
she said

she gazed back at me
aren't you going to wash
and dress?

I nodded
after you

you're quicker
she said

she was right
ok
so I got up
and went into the bathroom
and washed
and brushed my teeth
and came out

she was on the bed
looking at the book
of poems

how do you
make sense of this?
she asked

open minded
and getting the vibe

she put the book down
and went in the bathroom

I dressed
lit a cigarette
and stood
by the window
looking down
into the Parisian street
below

I love Paris
I mused
love all this
and blew
a passing French girl
a palm blown kiss.