Deja-vu a’ Montmartre

(an experience of deja-vu in Paris)

You whisked me too quickly

down the cobbled streets

old apartments

iron-lace balconies

facades jutting out

‘the artist’s quarter’ you said

‘Montmartre’

to you who grew up here

homely clutter

my new-world eyes

gulped at your old-world

fret-worked spirals

could not get enough

empathy of heart

you took me to Place du Tertre

in the shadow of Sacre Coeur

corner café, small table

looking out on a vista

of easels and daubed canvas

when the eclipse occurred

perspective slipped, a time shift

old eyes eclipsed new eyes

focussed a lens on a scene

so familiar, it was clear

my whole life spent here

in this gas-yellow café’

reflecting faces

blurring gold

in smoky mirrors

the aroma of absinthe

strong coffee, croissant

those ‘morning after’
red-eyed rituals

and lingering still

the nightly smell of paint

still wet on artist’s smocks

the dancer’s top-knots

twists of red, swirling silk

lace petticoats and breasts

still heaving, sweating

their last frenetic finale

leaving on the air faint

perfumed powder

rose, lavender, old tobacco

sate the senses

in one breath knowing

I’d walked back a century

to meet myself in another shell

so in this present I sit

blue jeans embroidered

flowers, symbols

long hair patchouli’d

waist-coated paisley

and my eyes eclipsing

plunging me back

to a strange culture

an old city’s odour and hue

glimpsing my place

in this teetering world

of saw-dust vagrants

vain mirrors of their idol

Bacchus chalking up

debts rebellious

a sketch for a meal

at the local café’

my second home

the artist’s quarter -

Montmartre

Pamela Sidney (approx 2002)