Parisian Haze Poem by Matthew English

Walking down such a familiar street, though in an absence of mind; my head is whirring, leaving me to feel faint and vision blurred, but I keep walking.
Step- after step- after step.
No music playing, as I’m wthout headphones, leaving my walk-man in my pocket, without a use. In the background- the only music I’m able to hear is the sound of an accordion playing, from a bench I’ve just passed. It’s usual to hear buskers, but the accompaniment, is queer from any other I’ve experienced before on this street. In a blink of my eye I’m transported, against my will to a parisian market; my swirling head playing a trick on me?
None-the-less I feel distant, far away. The surroundings are the same, the faces, but my unconscious is parallel from reality, creating a blur in my senses. To clarify I’m still in the same town I listen out to the passers by, each conversation to try and hear familiar language; but it’s different, I can’t understand anything from the mouths of the strangers.
I stand still.
Rub my eyes.
Then continue- Step- after step- after step.
This time I gaze up more often and with haste to rectify my mind and surroundings.
My eyes open wide as I see a familiar face walking up the street- same body features and everything, I must be here, and not there. I watch her as she turns into the cafe as i wonder- is she the same girl I know?
I continue walking until I reach my destination.
I open the door into the artificially lit building society and queue behind an elderly woman. I ponder about everything that’s happened and wish I could just sit down.
-next customer to bay 4-… thats me. I toddle over.
I ask to withdraw ten pounds and then sign my name on the slip she hands to me, which she then replaces with a well used note.
As I take it i look up at her appearance, which I haven’t yet payed any attention to. She was young, blonde and attractive by all accounts. As I look she smiles. A smile to heal all. As I gaze at her smile a weight feels lifted- ‘I am home’.
This beauty was reality, the headlight that clears the fog of my mind, cleansing. The solution.
‘I’m home’.