Skip to main content

St Peter in Gare du Nord 

“You bought the wrong ticket” He scowled.
Obviously I was no Parisian.  It took two moments to translate
his statement in my head. 

“Zone 2?” I asked, tentatively. Prior to this
I had considered myself a cosmopolitan man.
My wife clenching my elbow in near panicked morse code.

“No.” he paused, shaking his head and then
Passed his card over the machine.
Alleluia.
The gate lifted and he bid us good day. 
I wish we had stayed.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Conan The Barbarian

What is best in life? He bellowed the question, and the answer is simple: the smell of fresh brewed coffee the taste of bananas from a bowl of Cheerios the delicate crunch of warm buttered toast this is what is best in life, Conan.
Post a Comment
Read more

I am not afraid of bees

Front lawns required time, labor, and money They were meant to be remote and awe inspiring. They obscure as well as protect. Which was where they waited. Ambush. a painful memory, a small hole, a wound in the grass filled with them. Laughing and chasing bubbles, then pain and screaming. Grandmother held me down, crushed them as they stung me. Inside my clothes, you could not simply brush them off. Later, she burned them. She taught me how to do it. You wait until night, when air and ground are cool when they are sluggish Use Kerosene. it does not explode like gas. You'll need a rag. Walk softly for they can feel vibrations. She smiled, her bony finger pointed at the burned out grass "Those ones will not hurt you again. But be careful, there may be more. I bought extra kerosene." all of it came back to me I crushed them burrowing into the dogs coat. I could not simply brush them off. From a distance, it looked like he was dancing. My wife...
Post a Comment
Read more