When in Paris (Day 21, 2017)

For the 21st day of National Poetry Writing Month, I exchanged poem titles with Julie Ayers.  The poem she wrote is here.

When in Paris

she never visits the
Tower or the Arc or
Mona Lisa
but instead descends 
to the subway system
she finds the most crowded cars
squeezes between strangers
and holds tight to the
overhead bar

the heat of the car
intensifies the smells
musk and stale cigarette smoke
her body presses 
the man next to her
sweat trickles down her spine
eyes closed, she inhales deeply
their bodies rock together
as the tracks clack below

there is an earthiness
to Paris
that she has never found 
in New York or London
anywhere else
it makes her feel primitive
the percussive tracks
the smell of armpits
the anonymous contact
her whole vacation spent
clutching that bar
like a branch she’s swinging from
on her way to nowhere


About semiblind

Bringing you stark existentialism since 1981.
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