Best Seasonsparis Poems
MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE PARIS HEATWAVE
As streets of Paris smoldered to July
and rippled heat rose up into the sky,
although the dark should bring relief
it only added to the grief
and made a restless body want to die;
there was no motion to the stagnant air
it only layed a blanket ev'rywhere,
and there it stayed for seven days
all stale and torrid in its haze,
and I was wrought to find companions there.
Though all the sufferring that Paris knew
slowed down the pace, and ev'rything we do,
at least when we had thought of it
we had to smile a little bit,
because t'was hell for all the tourists, too.