Yes, you love Paris, but does Paris love you?
You’ve read the articles, the books and the blogs telling you that you can be one with the City of Light by wearing the right shoes, by tying a scarf comme ça, by learning to choose a fresh baguette or a perfect pastry, by lunching at this restaurant and dining at that, by taking a seat here and a promenade there, by speaking a chirpy bonjour and a dainty s’il vous plaît?
Do that, they say, and Paris will accept you, Paris will embrace you, Paris will love you as much as you love Paris.
Yet, when all is said (in French) and done (with flair), what if your long-dreamt, blue-skied, night-sparkling love for Paris is unrequited?
What if Paris does not, cannot, will never love you?
You arrive—or stay far too long—pleading, “Paris, love me.”
And Paris replies…
[Readers are invited to note below the response that Paris makes to that plea for love.]
© 2014 Gary Lee Kraut
…you talkin’ ta me??
Paris says to me…bienvenue. It’s been too long.
… “I’ll take what she’s having.”
… “Désolé, I left my heart in San Francisco.”
… by refusing to acknowledge the visitor until he/she says Bonjour.
“Stay, don’t leave” Paris speaks to me.
“…You really gonna walk 5-abreast at half speed and stop a local listening to headphones to ask directions to the Eiffel Tower? Again??? C’mon, man. Get it together.”
… Laissez-moi tranquille!
Peut-etre…
And Paris replied… with a Gallic shrug.
And Paris replied by leaving for a 5-week vacation on the coast.
Paris replied: You don’t really love me. You love the idea of being in love with me. ‘Cause if you really loved me you’d respect me a little more and not put locks on my bridges.
Il est juste un cauchemar. Je t’aime!
Admire me, explore me, delight in me; but don’t come too close.
Paris replies: If you love me why do you want to destroy the beauty of my bridges with your locks?
Moi non plus.