How Far Would You Go for a Gag
- Admin
- 3 hours ago
- 1 min read
Our long-awaited
jaunt to gay Paree
has been postponed.
I try to be upbeat
as I spring the news:
In a year
it will still be there.
It’s not going anywhere.
Aside from the predictable
poet and I didn’t even know it
remark, you bring up the
chance that it won’t,
blown right off the map
in a Putin tantrum,
or as the bullseye for a
space rock—or suffer yet
another bubonic plague.
I take it even further
than your gloom—
that Parisians will roll
their streets up like a scroll,
take apart their homes,
disassemble the
Eiffel Tower
like Meccano,
once they hear that
we are coming;
that we’ve waited
20 years for their baguettes;
corking their champagne,
stuffing every suitcase
with berets, leaving
every Fifi
with their friends in
Monaco—which
should be
a part of France
I’ve heard them say;
that its monarch is no
Louis—Fourteenth or
otherwise—
and the only good
thing about it
was Princess Grace,
who, upon visiting
the Champs-Élysées,
was struck that every inch
was crammed with lovers,
no space without a kiss,
no scene
that wasn’t painted—
and that Khrushchev
was a monster
on the news, vowing
when she was there
to launch it
into orbit,
once he tried the cognac
from Marseille, which,
I’ve been told,
is just as good as Paris
in November, the airfare
half the price.
Andreas Gripp
June 7, 2025

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