Wot I rote two years ago still goes. Unattainable Paris. Like some sort of spell. Enchanting but unreachable. Drives me crazy. There she is. The semi-naked, totally covered, twenty first century untouchable girl.
Stride, she strides she, me a-running after she, lost like the guy passing by the tree, he a-lost he.
This is Paris for me, fleeting moments, fleecing bits of cloth, unclothing, thoughts revealing, waving, washing lines unrelentish concealing nothing, dirty washing, love to see it, darling, show me more than you're feeling...
Then the fantasy finishes, she's a-gone a long gone, perfect lonesome legs a swan song, gutteral guy a grim gnome, spiteful tree a trite base home.