Montmartre
The harlot on the hill
Her perfume
of garlic and Gaulloises
sour in the Sunday afternoon.
~
On the Rue Laitiere
A promenade of bustles
where, from under lace parasols
Working girls glances
Survey the field.
~
In the Moulin de la Galette
The thin man in a hurry
Eager at the canvass
Licks brush on palette
and gives Estelle her eyes.
~
From a third story window
Lissette leans on her elbows
Smiles at the sunlight
Sighs with the memory
of yesterday’s lover.