He places, in her saucers, cups. She blooms an answer before his his question buds. He nouns, she verbs at cocktail small talk. Blindfolded, they can saw a lady in half with sharpened tongues, and glide, black swans together, swayingly, into the night. Cars ride up on the sidewalks and people spill out into the street or hug the passageways, close to the store- fronts, wary of velos threatening to run over their toes.
Eager shoppers choke the street markets and the flea markets.
At the big museums they cue up at the gates in a line stretching down the block. The cheap stores open their bellies to the street, whole walls riped open to the plain air. But the restaurants are full and the wine bars are full and the other bistros are full and the brasseries are full. The park lawns and the park benches are peopled. The little folding chairs in the Luxemburg are all taken.