Walking Into Maxim's Wearing Blue Faded Jeans?
How Obscene!
Très elegant!
Très chic!
I must have a peek
before ending my holiday.
So about four
I opened the door
to this most famous cabaret.
“A look at the décor;
that’s all that I want –
nothing more,”
my plea to the stern Maître d’.
“Be quick!
Allez!
Don’t touch les canapés.”
He slighted this wide-eyed bourgeoisie.
Walking around Maxim’s wearing blue faded jeans?
To the guillotine!
Imagine…
a shrine to high living
for a sparkling parade
from Mata Hari to Mistinguett.
Plus sultans and lords with jeweled ladies
exposing white-powdered decollates.
Sipping wine in the glow
of gold-shaded lamps,
seated on red velvet chairs,
crowning a meal with crepes suzette,
delighting in a string quartet
amid mirrors and paintings – all rococo…
“Madame, it’s time to go!”
Walking out of Maxim’s wearing blue faded jeans?
What a scream!