It's not inconcievable that this could be a favorite place for someone. Especially at one of its outside tables on a warm day. Crowds of people walk by on the boulevard St. Michel, and the fountain is visible from here (the water-spouting demons, at least, if not the Archangel himself). One transient has left the nearby doorway to be replaced by another, who is in the process of covering his tattooed torso with a gray turtleneck shirt. Perhaps he just came from sunning himself on the newly-opened Paris Beach along the edge of the Right Bank.
My table is marbled, small and round with a brass edge. The sugar is blue-tubed and powdered. I was also given a glass of water, and on the glass is a picture of a leaf and a bottle of Pampryl fruit juice.
The turtlenecked vagabond can't seem to support his own weight and lies down on the sidewalk. As I write this, he is being accosted by a do-gooder with a goatee and camouflage shorts who is no doubt giving him some much-needed advice.
Metro: St. Michel
Sugar: tube of powdered sugar
Copyright © 2002 David Sadegh.
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