Paris and Helen
Perhaps the April sun shone every day
And I do not remember. Did the rain
Exclude us from our choice out-door café
While through the glass we watched it spot the Seine?
We lived in bed, and ordered in. The staff
Would chase us out to change the sheets and air
The room, and chide us with a knowing laugh
To see some of the city while we’re there.
Since we were born to work and serve, not rule
A Mycenaean city-state, we had
To leave at last to travel back to school,
And stop the pale pretence that we were mad
And bad and dangerous. We cried, but when
We left we never saw each other again.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Marcus Bales would be
pleased to hear them.