The Shit You’ll See in Paris | Poems that Suck

I was walking along a narrow,

Parisian street; very posh,

the kind with neat hedgerows

that camouflage the iron gate

intended to keep

the riff raff

out.

–

I was having a pleasant

morning stroll, but

then a giant pile

of dog shit

came across

my

path.

–

I paused for a moment,

nibbling on my

chocolate croissant,

mulling over

the turd in

my way

before

continuing

on.

–

Not five steps away,

I beheld what was

very clearly a

skid mark

that repeated

every three

paces

or

so.

–

I quickly put the

pieces together,

some unfortunate

fellow had stepped

in that

shit

not

far

back

–

And had spent

half a mile

trying to

scuff it off

the bottom

of

his

shoe.

–

I gazed at the

last, short

skid shaking

my head.

Surely, this

was a

commentary

on

life.