Saturday, August 17, 2013

The Golden Arches

I was walking down Avenue Victor Hugo to take care of a lil business.  I passed a silver-haired homeless man sitting on the boulevard.  I didn't have any change to spare, so I touched my heart and smiled.  He touched his heart and smiled back.

I stopped by the postale to handle business but it was closed.  As is everything in August in Paris.

On my walk back, I passed a McDonalds.  I stopped in Les Mickey Ds for the euro menu. It didn't quite compute (Non, je ne veux pas un Big Mac, je veux deux hamburgers).  I grabbed two burgers and headed out.

I passed the fellow back on Ave Victor Hugo. I pulled the hamburgers out of the bag, and he pulled over a newspaper for me to sit on. Such is appreciated hospitality.

We sat eating our hamburgers in the afternoon shade.  His name was Paul too.  I have a soft spot for Pauls, we are good peeps.  He showed me his semi-toothless grin and explained that it was difficult to eat; this hamburger was perfect.  We tossed breadcrumbs to the pigeons; passers-bye offered us bon appétit.

We finished our burgers, and he bade me well with a touch to his heart.

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