and we were in paris,
and the sky-
the sky-
was crystal blue, lined with perfectly poised, pearly, porcelain, fat wooly sheep with no faces,
and it was stuck-
like a freeze frame,
no wind blowing east or west,
or upside down.

but yet it whizzed by, 
flung away by the big train-bus like contraption pulling us,
pulling us on metal tracks that looked like tar.
frowning, menacing tar.
sweaty excited teenagers all around me.

but i was stuck-
like the ocean blue sky with the faceless sheep.
and the air was humid, sticky, heavy.
sweat plastered to our skin.

but i was sweating for another reason.

the cobbled streets had lamp posts of men-

tall, tall men,
as tall as the train-bus thingy,
with thick, long fingers like carrots
and top hats like skyscrapers, 
and i looked through those windows,
with a foggy mind.

the lamp posts stared and stared at us with their googly eyes covered with...