(Poem 236 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/xLWcHpsbnEBDJaPx9 https://images.app.goo.gl/R6w1x8wuUVKRu5Nu8 https://images.app.goo.gl/GT53vsWyqN3gAkCP8

Emily in Paris
wears couture,
and speaks very
little French beyond
je ne comprends pas.
Nonsensical fantasy,
masquerade balls,
friends to lovers,
pregnant brides
leave grooms at
the altar to run off
to Greece with
another woman,
lovers’ triangles–non,
lovers’ pentagons.
Galas and lunches,
gorgeous people,
a French chef,
oh là là.
Silver-voiced
roommates who
sing Enchanté,
more fashion than
one decadent femme
could possibly possess,
merci beaucoup,
and everyone she
meets has that
je ne sais quoi
that Americans
simply do not
understand.

@Home Studio – 236^th poem of the year (After watching Emily in Paris.)

Star, Darren, et al. Emily in Paris. Widescreen. Los Angeles, CA, Paramount, 2021.