oskar hansen


more than paris


France is more than Paris


This dark, unfriendly French provincial town, only,
a pizza parlour open run by a gloomy, unshaven
person who looked like a reluctant refugee from
Kosovo I wouldn’t like to stay down-wind from.
Everything made of plastic tables, chairs that once
had been white, under the counter rested pieces
of pizzas that was going cold, I had two pieces one
with salami, the other with tuna, washed down with
soft drinks. Finished the meal, the man looked at me
as saying: ” What are you still doing here? I left.
Turned, looked into dirty windows, and thought” If this
is hell I better start saying my prayer now.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 14, 2009
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  • Seema Chowdhury (10/14/2009 6:43:00 AM)

    very interesting experience you had, I believe.
    take care an thanks for sharing it with all.

    see some of my new poems too if time permits

    1. dwell in my soul pg1
    2. watch the magic happen pg3 (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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