sitting on an iron bar in a smelly walkway of La Seine

underneath a random bridge in Paris
there rests four tents
across La Seine Notre Dame
sparkles in elegance.

unlike that worn out sock
exhausted
mattress
and distressed sleeping bag
who still have years left in usage there.

the river is polluted.
it seems acceptable that way.
the seaweed looks hearty
the type humanity has
unintentionally bred.

the tourists of Paris ride
along on tourist boats.
they are content to see
the Cathedral for its charm
the river for its history
and the city accepts all these circumstances.