the Gauloise Girls

By Adam Gibson ©

the cat-eyed slinkies of Rue de Sevres
the knife-butter flick-lips of the Sorbonne bike tracks
and Algerian ash eyes of flashing Metros and the
shock-tongue devil-mouth whispers of feline hisses
of Montparnassssse
and the brutal banlieue eyelashes of Pigalle and Clichy
where the air is gathered in neon
and the shocked outsiders of the au pair perennials of
Motte-Picquet and the Seventh and up in Montmartre
with its painted cheeks and Paris-straight-flop-hair
reaching just above shoulder and tied in
loose careful/careless elastic by the cigarette hands of
the Gauloise Girls in early morning black coffee cafe repose
who take on the day without showers and wear stockings
perfumed with tiger patterns for the whole
day and the night which lies ahead.