As I pish pash down the monstrous streets of Paris

The rain makes the cheap neon shimmer and shiver

I am approached by a creaking vagrant

Shuddering and Grunting

Coughing and Wheezing

He pushes a shopping trolley containing maize

I secretly wish he will pass me by

But of course he does not

‘Want some corn’ he asks

‘That’s maize.’  I say

‘That’s not fit for human consumption’ I say

He laughed

Raised his hands to the skies

‘None of this is fit for human consumption’ he screamed

I bought some maize and trudged on

How could I argue