Parisian embarrassments: Place de la Bastille
Crossing the Place de la Bastille, through crowds,
in rain, I mis-step, fail to gain traction
on a steep-sloped kerb, and go down hard,
limbs splayed, head coming to rest with a dull
thunk against unforgiving street furniture.
Looking up, three quarters stunned, I see
neat Parisians swerve on polished feet
like woodland creatures barely perturbed by
the fall of a mighty British oak.