The girl in the canary yellow dress
tosses her dried baguette crumbs onto the dirt.
With 35mm eyes her parents watch
as flying beggars swoop down
to feast on a simple meal.

Neon signs flash, blending in with the
clicks of the tourists.
Words blinking in a language
foreign to her own.

Beastialité!
Deux jeunes filles,
une tasse!

Her dark ringlets bounce in
the breeze from the red windmill,
where Nini-legs-in-the-air once cut rugs.
A whisper reaches her,
calling in a language she has
yet to learn.