From the Labyrinthine Metro

my paris begins with 
those early days 
as a conscious flaneur 
i recall the couple 
seated opposite me 
on the metro 
when i was still innocent 
of its labyrinthine complexity 
slim pretty white girl 
clad head to toe in denim 
smiling wistfully 
while her muscular black beau 
stared through me 
with fathomless orbs 
and one of them spoke 
almost in a whisper 
qu'est-ce-que t'en pense 
and it dawned on me 
yes the young parisienne 
with the distant desirous eyes 
was no less male than me 

dismal movies 
in the forum des halles 
being screamed at in pigalle 
and then howled at again 
by some kind of madman 
or vagrant who told me 
to go to the bois de boulogne 
to meet what he saw 
as my destiny 
menaced 
by a sinister skinhead 
for trying on tessa's 
wide-brimmed hat 
getting soused in les halles 
with sara 
who'd just seen 
dillon as rusty james 
and was walking in a daze 
sara again with jade 
at the caveau 
de la huchette jazz cellar 

cash squandered 
on a gold tootbrush 
two tone shoes 
from close by 
to the place d'italie 
portrait sketched 
at the place du tertre 
paperback books 
by symbolist poets 
but second hand volumes 
by trakl and deleve 
and a leather jacket 
from the marche aux puces 
porte de clignancourt 
losing gary's address 
scrawled on a page 
of musset's confession 
walking the length 
and breadth of the rue st denis, 
what an artist's paradise 
(as juliette once wrote me).