Tourists

Waves on the Seine look artificial
Handheld Eiffel Towers sold
A city shaped and superficial
Painted statues swathed in gold

And then there is the other city
Where Parisians shop and dine
One elegant instead of pretty
Where we cross a secret line

I watch a boat pass down the river
Inside tourists dressed the same
A cold wind blows, a tiny shiver
Matching shirts, Paris for shame

A garden grown, a subtle wink
A glitzy meal, a pretty show
A dandelion, I should think
Where chic, red poppies grow.