“I dreamt I was in Paris” by Jen Booton
“I dreamt I was in Paris”
Jen Booton
I dreamt I was in Paris
scents of coffee and absinthe
wafting as olfactory wind chimes
typewriters snug on Boulevard Montparnasse
tables peppered with burgeoning authors
lost among their own generation but destined
to be famous for centuries.
Drunk on wine, cigarettes and
delusion sturdy as centenarian
tree roots that their precious
moment in time, after war, was all
that mattered, which of course they were right
a ripple in the energetic tapestry of life
connecting them with me here, 100 years
Later on a wooden table snug against
a Smith-Corona drunk on…
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