older man with a sweater and a tie, a quilted blue jacket and a beautiful bad toothed smile. between the two of us we can't get his floppy leather briefcase out from where it's pinched in the metro doors. he laughs and shrugs at me: au moins, comme ça, je n'ai pas besoin de la porter!
he leaves at st augustin and a portly man enters, talking to a beautiful woman with light grey hair and a dark grey scarf. his hair floats up thinly, like steam coming off the water on a hot day. salt and pepper wires of it licking up towards the ceiling. he kind of pins me to the wall. how rude.
flower man is stuck outside the flower shop, so i let him in. you know i'm a foreigner because i give a shit for no reason at all. paris is too focused for that kind of childishness. to fit in i will need blinders or the heart equivalent of a lobotomy. mostly opposed to surgery, but i feel the latter would solve more than one of my problems. maybe they can fix my other issues while they're in there, like a uterus that works or add something cool. like a tattoo on the inside. written on the inverse so you can read it from the outside. that says: dr. so and so's been here. being a doctor must be great.
butcher can hardly open the doors of his rotisserie oven for the overabundance of pedestrian trafic. we smile at each other. i buy his chicken less and less as i feel poorer and poorer. maybe i should invest again soon. they do last awhile. i'm not eating a chicken a night or anything. though that would be amazing. i'd take on fox traits and be able to con my way into and out of tricky spots. and scamper gracefully. and become a redhead.
another job offer i should take and do not want to take. why can't someone offer me a job that doesn't mean staying in paris at inconvenient times? i need to unstick the idea of california from my mind. maybe it is not to be. i told her i'd think about it. deep breathing. what do you want? if you could do anything you wanted, what would it be? more deep breathing. christ almighty. decisions make us insane. overabundance of choices is the grossest awfullest trip that you aren't supposed to complain about.
student by day, illegal boxing match goer by night. feelin lucky, quenching my bloodlust in basements and back rooms.
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