jukebox reverie

Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

when in parís
(or at least to dream)
how love is but a spree
a slip of coin
a tender horn
in le petit café

where there i greet
the sightly beast
unveiled across from me
with cordial smile
he lights the tiles
du petit café

where there i loosen
my blouse, seclusion,
and insecurity
switch shells into
le lisse chanteuse
dans le petit café

where there i swing
ms. josephine’s
“la conga blicoti”
dance le cirque
banana skirt
dans le petit café

and shimmy chic…