culture show

These Bruxellois proceed down the stained streets
as though they were regular people
They pretend ignorance of how exotic they are
with pits unperfumed and foreign tongues in their mouths.

They speak French and Flemish
as if no effort were involved
and never seem pleased to have found
just the right word to order their salmon grille
or frites with mayonnaise

How can they sustain the casual facade?
Surely each eve they must arrive at their 18th century flats
and shut the heavily-carved doors
then stagger to an ornate chaise
where they collapse from the effort;
while I am exhausted
by the perpetual wonder of it.