Arielle Bennatan

Bon Peri

The sky is a pavement gray, the clouds thick.
The buildings loom impressively tall, the boulevards broad.
Nothing can be heard in the cobblestone streets but the gentle patter of the rain.
The sun is masked behind the clouds and the atmosphere is as earnest as the weather is dreary.
But the people aren’t muddled; this is an average rainy day in Paris.

A monsieur and his wife pace down the boulevard.
Their steps are heavy; guilt and shame weigh them down.
No eye contact is made with others and their words are terse out of the corner of their mouths.
“What are we to do now?” asked the madam.
“I don’t know, ma cheri, I just don’t know,” replied Peruggia.

Two businessmen hurry towards the Saint-Lazare train station.
Their high-fashion black suede suits broadcast their power for all of France to see.
Their ties are made of silk and cashmere and were bought at the most suave shop in Paris.
Their stride is long and confident; they walk with purpose and dignity.
Everything from the top hats they model to the leather shoes adorning their feet represents argent: money.


Copyright 2002-2008 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2008 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.