Parisian Gal
  Victor George

I have to say
she wolfed down that crème Brule
those crazy Montréalers, she said, can’t get out
fast enough
Canada is just so young, and
she wants to stand in places that have existed for hundreds of years
like eating in a restaurant where Van Gogh would bed prostitutes to get
a few days when she was in Paris
she would go to Montmartre
and wander
laughing in a small village in the middle of a city
with all of its stiff history
Montmartre in Paris, she said but
she’d have to be rich to live there
super expensive real estate these days
even though it used to be the cheapest
back in the days of Van Gogh and Picasso
she had a box full of handwritten letters from those days
friends, lovers, boyfriends, girlfriends
a good way for her to figure it out
she liked crossing things quick,
she called me a Canadian lad,
and she whispered how
it could have been lonely but
all she had to do was see the Obelisk
that Napoleon stole from Luxor where
the guillotine stood and
get a book and a baguette and a
bottle of cheap red wine and whisk away
under the canapé next to the canal anytime
she possibly could, being a
Parisian girl who smiled in Canada

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