Sunday, October 18/Monday, October 19, 2009
PURPLE WAS ALL THE RAGE IN PARIS
By Philip Cairns
PURPLE WAS ALL THE RAGE IN PARIS
By Philip Cairns
Copyright 2009 by Philip Cairns
Emotions are churning from the depths of my soul.
So intense, they feel like the fireworks in Hitchcock’s “To Catch a Thief”.
Don’t know where they’re coming from.
Faded dreams surround me, as if an anvil had crushed my chest.
I miss the labyrinth-like streets of Paris.
The ecstasy of seeing the “Mona Lisa” in the flesh,
So to speak.
The stunning beauty of the Paris Opera House and the Notre Dame Cathedral.
Buying an exquisite purple etching on a winding street full of art galleries.
I long for the Parisian outdoor cafes
And the beauty of the well-dressed, fashionable women.
The gorgeous, jewel-like young men glowing in the sun.
Getting lost and winding up in the Red Light district,
A prostitute motioned for me to come to her.
Her friend (was he a pimp?) helped me to find my way.
I was only one street away from my sought-after destination.
I wasn’t blue in Paris.
Spending money,
Shopping.
The glorious spectacle of the city dazzling my child-like eyes.
Walking in lush, giant, manicured gardens beside an enormous palace.
Ogling rare jewel-encrusted goblets in the Louvre.
Standing in awe in front of masterpieces by Leonardo da Vinci.
Purple was the magical colour in that late summer:
In store windows, in people’s clothes on the street,
My Hugo Boss shirt and mauve suede shoes.
Judy Garland sings “Paris is a Lonely Town” but I never felt that way.
My companion had scores of relatives, wining and dining us.
The plump old aunt who lives in a fashionable part of town,
With teeming, trendy cafes below her plant-filled balcony.
Annie is good friends with her dead husband’s mistress.
Only in Gay Paree!!
The Arc de Triomphe blew my mind.
So much history oozing from every pore.
Respect and reverence for the past.
I bought a gorgeous miniature high heel shoe near the Seine.
I swam in the pool and took steam in a gay sauna bath
But I remained chaste for the whole trip.
Sitting at meals where everyone spoke French, except me.
Everything sparkled in this vibrant city.
I was mesmerized by the sight of the Eiffel Tower
Lit up in the distance at night.
I stood in a square and stared at it for hours
While young street performers twirled flaming batons
And danced a choreographed routine.
My friend bought me a bathrobe that cost $180!
Paris, let me see you, again, before I die.
Embrace me.
Let me gorge on your culture and beauty.
You are like another planet, dipped in antiquity.
Ancient sculptures sit placidly in your museums.
Let me sit on the top of the double-decker bus
Sucking in all your riches.
The cab driver said, “It’s only the Eiffel Tower. Big deal,”
As we passed it for the first time in daylight.
I sat sniffling in the front seat because it epitomizes romance, to me,
And I never thought I would see it.
Life has turned out so different than I had planned.
Dreams turning into nightmares.
But walking along the Champs-Elysees at night
Is like a rush of fresh poppers.
Loud cafes with glamorous women.
Magnificent, old triangular buildings.
Winding, narrow streets.
The over-the-top owner of the art gallery,
Who could have stepped out of the British film “The Red Shoes”,
Flitting around with enormous eyes and her hair pulled back in a bun.
Warm, perfect weather.
Beauty lurks around every corner in Paris.
Let me drink you till I burst.
Feed my spirit and inspire me.
I need to see you one more time.
So intense, they feel like the fireworks in Hitchcock’s “To Catch a Thief”.
Don’t know where they’re coming from.
Faded dreams surround me, as if an anvil had crushed my chest.
I miss the labyrinth-like streets of Paris.
The ecstasy of seeing the “Mona Lisa” in the flesh,
So to speak.
The stunning beauty of the Paris Opera House and the Notre Dame Cathedral.
Buying an exquisite purple etching on a winding street full of art galleries.
I long for the Parisian outdoor cafes
And the beauty of the well-dressed, fashionable women.
The gorgeous, jewel-like young men glowing in the sun.
Getting lost and winding up in the Red Light district,
A prostitute motioned for me to come to her.
Her friend (was he a pimp?) helped me to find my way.
I was only one street away from my sought-after destination.
I wasn’t blue in Paris.
Spending money,
Shopping.
The glorious spectacle of the city dazzling my child-like eyes.
Walking in lush, giant, manicured gardens beside an enormous palace.
Ogling rare jewel-encrusted goblets in the Louvre.
Standing in awe in front of masterpieces by Leonardo da Vinci.
Purple was the magical colour in that late summer:
In store windows, in people’s clothes on the street,
My Hugo Boss shirt and mauve suede shoes.
Judy Garland sings “Paris is a Lonely Town” but I never felt that way.
My companion had scores of relatives, wining and dining us.
The plump old aunt who lives in a fashionable part of town,
With teeming, trendy cafes below her plant-filled balcony.
Annie is good friends with her dead husband’s mistress.
Only in Gay Paree!!
The Arc de Triomphe blew my mind.
So much history oozing from every pore.
Respect and reverence for the past.
I bought a gorgeous miniature high heel shoe near the Seine.
I swam in the pool and took steam in a gay sauna bath
But I remained chaste for the whole trip.
Sitting at meals where everyone spoke French, except me.
Everything sparkled in this vibrant city.
I was mesmerized by the sight of the Eiffel Tower
Lit up in the distance at night.
I stood in a square and stared at it for hours
While young street performers twirled flaming batons
And danced a choreographed routine.
My friend bought me a bathrobe that cost $180!
Paris, let me see you, again, before I die.
Embrace me.
Let me gorge on your culture and beauty.
You are like another planet, dipped in antiquity.
Ancient sculptures sit placidly in your museums.
Let me sit on the top of the double-decker bus
Sucking in all your riches.
The cab driver said, “It’s only the Eiffel Tower. Big deal,”
As we passed it for the first time in daylight.
I sat sniffling in the front seat because it epitomizes romance, to me,
And I never thought I would see it.
Life has turned out so different than I had planned.
Dreams turning into nightmares.
But walking along the Champs-Elysees at night
Is like a rush of fresh poppers.
Loud cafes with glamorous women.
Magnificent, old triangular buildings.
Winding, narrow streets.
The over-the-top owner of the art gallery,
Who could have stepped out of the British film “The Red Shoes”,
Flitting around with enormous eyes and her hair pulled back in a bun.
Warm, perfect weather.
Beauty lurks around every corner in Paris.
Let me drink you till I burst.
Feed my spirit and inspire me.
I need to see you one more time.
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