I don’t speak French very well so today I said to my cab driver, Virginie,
I said, Me, now, I am always proud, because if there is something, I can do it! Me. I can.
Do you understand?
To which she responded, Oui, which was mostly just nice of her
because I didn’t really either but I couldn’t stop speaking, I felt just like
a moon bounce on the up-jump, I said,
I can do things, just at me, all alone! I practically shouted it.
C’est merveilleux, she responded, and then I loved her as much as I love anyone in the world.
It was hard for me to say goodbye,
so I gave her my number in case she ever wanted to call,
no pressure, I said, but she didn’t understand because I said it in English.

So now I’m here at the Musée d'Orsay and Aretha Franklin’s
coming through my headphones. She’s telling me baby baby baby,
and I do a little shuffle dance beneath the Eglise d’Auvers.
I want to turn to this crowd of strangers,
with their backpacks and comfortable shoes
and say, Look at this! Isn’t it beautiful? I want there to be someone
next to me to elbow, I want to yell, Can I get a witness?
Because this art stuff really does it for me.
And once I had the crowd’s attention, I’d have more to tell them,
I’d say, People, people, be careful! This can be dangerous!
Witnessing beauty at such a proximity. Like this!

There’s this artist and he made
one hundred million porcelain sunflower seeds
and the idea was to walk across them, to hear the crunch,
so everybody walked and it was fantastic until one day when it was discovered—
the creation of a potentially dangerous porcelain dust!
Careful on the inhale! For God’s sake, can you take your breathing someplace else?
But that’s a lot of what life is like. Do you know what I’m saying?
Now this guy behind me, the one in the dress socks and short shorts,
I can tell he’s thinking—why didn’t I get that audio tour?
Because I’m doing a little shake with Gauguin and his beautiful women peer on.
I can do it. Me. I can.