A summer spent in Paris
The hustle and bustle of Paris’s streets welcomed
our foreign bodies with ease in which
we exalted, squealing with delight at our adventure.
We did not exist beyond “Those American girls.”

Trying on our accents, we descended
down avenues, leaving comfort for the
unknown. Mid day. Poised and collected,
we sauntered, stared and winked,

while speaking Français with a transatlantic beat.
Past charcuteries, patisseries, perfumeries,
we came to the conclusion we were in
need of an indulgence. We dined over

Paris’s finest delicacies, escargot, fine wines, and rich éclairs
underneath the glow of the memorizing Tour Eiffel.
Chanel. Dior. Lacoste. We spent our Euros unsparingly
on Parisian designers, curbing our desire for haute- couture.

We stifled gasps, as young boys walked by
in horizontal stripes with slight beard growth
on their chiseled chins. Learning to enjoy a culture
was a summer spent in Paris.