Читать книгу Beyond Paris - Paul Alexander Casper - Страница 11

Untouchable women, eyes that stare

All the signs tell you to beware

Sky liquid pours at suspicious times.

Heels on broken sidewalks rhyme

Foreign menus move up and down.

The only talk is a foreign sound

Wicked women are your only friends.

You might pick one or two, but do they pretend?

Moving red dots glow on a damp lonely street

Who knows what a stranger will meet?

Frequent looks are but foreign stares

And one who hesitates is one who dares.

Dark streets can be an inviting sight

But how can a traveler measure where there is no light?

Written April 12, late one evening in Paris while walking alone