Paris, I know by Leanne Howard Kenney at

Paris, I know

Paris, I know

written by: Leanne Howard Kenney



Paris in my mind
smells of baguettes
and butter
on a cool Spring day
in May.

Paris in my mind
smells of
centuries old sandalwood
green grass in barefoot
Musee du Louvre d’Art misunderstood
rosewood, neighborhoods and childhood.

Paris in my mind
looks like the Gardens of Versailles
the Orangeries and Parterre
where beauty is amplified
like rain formed tonnerre

Paris in my mind
looks like Montmartre
art easels, cable cars, cafés, bold colors portray
day and or night
all sweetness and light
humankind instantly aligned.

Paris in my mind
feels like padding under my feet
soft long pile that tickles my toes
envelopes my knees
presses to entreat
my words presupposed

Paris in my mind
sounds like accordions and violins
strolling, moonlit walks
where cuddlers hide within
the pavements inter-rock, interlocks.

Paris in my mind
is a cabaret
a juke joint jumping
trumpets a blare’n, trombones a roll’n
saxophones a howl’n
back-beat black bottom stumping
an uptempo turnaround before the pianist goes strolling
leaving the rhythm section overflowing.

Paris in my mind
tastes like buttery smooth caramels
pain au chocolat, chocolat au lait et chocolat chaud
all from the great Jack Genin’s.
Oh, say poets Simon & Garfunkel, they echo and swell
and be careful of those who maraud
for the beauty of Genin can only be felt henen.

Paris in my mind
is pastries from boulangeries
delightful fromage from Laurant Debois
and ham & egg soufflés from any patisseries
where sight and smell add more calories
than the number of petit bourgeois
who marched feignions avec Patton while étudions
des informations Coppée.

Ah yes, I
remember it well.


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