Route Soixante-Six

An ash tray lay before 

your sullen eyes,

a limonade as 

first place prize...

your red scarf

 à la mode,

darling, you look

straight out of Vogue...

the waiter politely babbles,

"Monsieur, Monsieur!"

you respond, accent with a lilt,

"No need, mon ami, here I'm a well known connoisseur."

You settle the balance, 

"L'addition, s'il vous plait." 

Strutting across the promenade,

the cafe life suits you well, wouldn't you say?