These portals into a Parisians life would glow against the Sacre Coeur, 
I'd watch, I'd analyse, I'd glamorise, 
The chimneys (those chimneys), the angles, the light, the neighbours, portal people or not,
My views always snagged a certain part of healthy envy,  

After one year in the general vicinity of Europe, 
I broke down the borders of these portals, 
their lavish lives 'in' or 'out' that just aren't,
their ability to look so busy, 
their lived architecture un-admired,

their week-ending anticipation, 

and the assumed realisation, 

(I suppose that Saturday night's just aren't that special)
'je suppose que le Samedi soir, ce n'est pas si special'
and decided that my apartment-less life is much more,
much more me,  much less ciggy, much less city.