we went late, at least we though it was.

to the underground storytale that was yesterday’s Paris,

with it’s old walls

and red couches

photos on the wall

of people who probably had no idea someday we’d be sighing at them.

will someone ever see a photo of us on the stinky floor

with the photos behind us,

or were we too late?

I think we were.

they played Count Basie

and we drank things fashionable back then.

I don’t even like Pernod.

but boy, watch them dance

the ones that can

the older black man

with the stubby white woman

he has to duck to get under his own twirl

and her little legs move so thickly

on little feet

but boy, they can move.

we clapped when we were told to

as if someone were watching us from tomorrow.

and the stubby lady kept dancing

I don’t think she gets to much

probably from being stubby

but at least she’s out there

while we watch and drink

dream and clap

all of us were tired

and no one wanted to go home before the stubby lady.

I think she’s probably still there.

next to the photos.

and the stink.

how we wish we could be.