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Niagara on the Lake, Ontario, Canada
My virtue is that I say what I think, my vice that what I think doesn't amount to much.

Friday, June 03, 2016

“Paris by Moonlight,” by Mary Ruefle

“Paris by Moonlight,” by Mary Ruefle

Oh my god, it’s Paris by moonlight

Even the trees are drunk and walking

A single pink slipper floats down the Seine

What kind of trees are those?

Those are trees in Paris by moonlight

And what size is her slipper?

It is the exact size of the sole

 We ate in the little restaurant an hour ago

Under the trees in Paris by moonlight

There is no end to our painlessness

The trees will never find it

The slipper never reach it

Morning after morning the smell of coffee

Makes them nauseous

While we go on painlessly in Paris

Barefoot and swaggering

Our aluminum heads in the moon glow so

We are like an advertisement

For those who will come after us

Anyone can see without French

They should just stay in bed

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