ascending from the foul-smelling metro station

the crisp city air rebirths me

into something new

into something better

all my senses kick into high gear

what is that?

the sound of a low, brassy note in the distance

the sweet smell of rose macarons

like a bar of floral soap

my mind escapes to an undisturbed utopia

one with men and women dancing vibrantly

the wildest reaches of my imagination

playing out into a real-life drama

my feet wander

dancing to their own queer song

then…

a brush of a woman’s coat brings me back

her haughty air contradicted by her sweet presence

the sharp lines of her jaw and her scarlet cheeks

those beautiful emerald eyes stare back at me

through my startled gaze

as she walks away, her feminine scent

trails behind

her fluffy dog prancing along

this is a parisian lady...