THE SH*T YOU'LL SEE IN PARIS
by Leia John
I was walking along a narrow
Parisian street; very posh, the
kind with iron gates intended to
keep the riff-raff out.
I was having a pleasant morning
stroll when I came across a giant
pile of dog shit in the middle
of my path.
I paused for a moment, nibbling
on my chocolate croissant, mulling
over the turd in my way before
continuing on.
Not five steps away, I beheld
what was very clearly a skid
-mark that repeated every three
paces or so.
I quickly put the pieces together;
some poor, unfortunate fellow
pedestrian had stepped in that shit,
not far back,
and had spent the last half
a mile trying desperately to
scuff it off the bottom of
their shoe.
I gazed at this last frantic
skid, marring the otherwise
pristine street, and thought to myself:
surely, this is a commentary on life.