The Instant Aristocrats (after Rimbaud’s “Royauté)
They were in Paris again and it was raining.
When they saw a boy come through the gate
at 27 Rue de Fleurus and walk toward the
Jardin du Luxembourg, the man and his wife
followed him to the Medici Fountain,
where he disappeared. ”That was weird,” said the
man. ”Well, it’s April,” said his wife,
by way of explanation.
Presently, their companions joined them and they
gathered together at the edge of the fountain.
Now they were a jolly party of 12 friends.
As they talked about at the bronze (now green-and-blue)
statue of Polyphemus, each one of them began to feel
that he or she had been initiated into some kind of
secret aristocratic sect. King and queens, all
of them – their blood full of legends, Hyacinths
entangled in their wind-tossed hair.
The morning passed and they remained royalty.
The afternoon passed and they were no less golden.
A lifetime passed and —
© Brett Davidson, 2013
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