La Crème

i lived my life

without the joy

of la crème

preferring my tea

black

then later

green

never acquiring

the taste for the aromatic

coffees

sipped by

the bold partisans and

worldly parisians

wearing hats and scarfs of wool

in restaurants and small cafes

along the maze

of tiny streets scattered

beneath the gargoyles

of notre dame

missed la crème de la crème

that floats to the top of the top

of the bohemian best

the simultaneously

sweet and sour fragrance

that reminds me

on those mornings

when i travel

of the bounty with

which i’m blessed

from the choices

i have made

and the consequences

of those selections

from the menu

for what i’ve missed