Pristiq 50mg

Nine months of planning,
An eight-hundred-dollar plane ticket,
Two huge suitcases, seams splitting wide.

You step off the plane—
Mirage of hope filling the crisp air

Beneath the ivory arch,
Tezcatlipoca¹ waits in glass reflections.

Storefronts flare with the morning rush.
The window posters preach:
Handwoven silk. Full-grain Leather. Mink.

But on the 22-inch thin mannequins,
Drapes synthetic weaves

You lean across the counter—
Un café au lait s'il vous plaît²

The china cup served,
Heat billowing up.

An Instagram post,
Followed by pixelated love.

But the elixir is bitter;
Your mouth puckers shut.

Streetlight disguised as moonlight,
You walk across centuries-old streets,
As you search for the city's
Je ne sais quoi³,
The fairytale you've been promised.

Do you find what Paris,
Has been missing?

At last, emblem of strength,
Gilded in gold light,
Her puddle iron legs.

But, inside—
You find her hollow frame.

Footnotes

1. The aztec deity of illusion and truth. ↩

2. "One latte please" in French. ↩

3. A quality that cannot be described or named easily. French Slang. ↩