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Would you like to sit here?-Dedicated to Graham

Hot June, hip Paris, hurrying and harassed, as we

run to board the cramped and crushing metro carriage.

And then, a voice from behind-‘Excuse me sir,

but would you like to sit here? You look tired,

and I am much younger than you.’ Not once,

but twice did this happen, and both times, I laughed.

Every opportunity that affords me to say these words,

in its original tongue, is taken with the utmost delight.

He smiles, wondering if I will ever tire of this little quip,

if fate would hit me with a similar line or situation.

And then, just the other day-it was his turn to laugh.

On the bus, not one, but three guys offered me their seats.

A more self satisfied man you have never seen, as he stood,

and I sat in the seat for the elderly. I could feel his smugness

from six foot away, as he smiled and gave me one of those

Barry’s, looking as if he was about to pick his nose. I smiled,

as I explained, the difference was that the guys were

overcome with my presence, that they had to stand up for me.

Thank goodness he can’t speak French; I’m sure it would

be his favourite refrain-‘Madame, madame. Voulez vous asoir ici, ca va?’

Truce in place, as we speak, quid pro quo-until the next time.

I must keeping drinking the youth dew, acquired from the fairies.

That way, I’ll always be one step ahead, in the quest for eternal youth.

Accepting the ageing process is a battle we all endure, till our final hour.

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