The Most Beautiful Girl in Paris, Illinois
She was born with a plastic McDonald’s spoon
In her mouth. Growing up, she cut pictures
Out of magazines, glossy beauties from the movies
That came limping into town months after
They were released. Long cigarettes in silver
Holders. Black limousines. Technically
She was from Paris, which made it all
Both better and worse. At night she lay
In bed and felt her sister city somewhere
Underneath her like the apocryphal pearl.
In the morning she stretched like a cat
And turned her head towards the light.
The stars on her walls had watched her
All night, old friends who believed in her
Despite all the evidence to the contrary.