Every Paris in the Morning

This blog centers on poetry matters, but wants
to range a bit today. The post still counts as poetry-
centered though what I'm offering isa a bit from a
recently completed screenplay (in collaboration
with my pal and UCSB colleague Ted Macker)
because the song below is adapted from an early
poem of mine.

Here's how it looks in the script...imagine a
youthful female blues-singer handling it, someone
like Joss Stone. BTW, the "Dylan" here is female.

INT. COMMUNITY COLLEGE OFFICE - DAY
Greg shakes hands with an imposingly professorial-
looking man (UNCLE ROB) who sits behind a large
desk in his drab office.

The scene plays out over Dylan’s soulful singing:

DYLAN (O.S.)
(singing)

Every Paris in the morning
When the mist is on the street
All the lovers fall to dreaming
Nose to nose and feet to feet
In the small-talk of the dawning
Like one body in their heat
Every Paris in the morning
When the mist...
Is on the street.

While the faithful dogs are yawning
While the suicides are scheming
All the lovers fall to dreaming
In this clearinghouse of woes
All the lovers fall to dreaming
And their dreams are bittersweet
Every Paris in the morning
When the mist...
Is on the street.

All the lovers fall to dreaming
And they dream their dreams of those
Lying under clumsy covers
Close beside their newer lovers
Who are dreaming dreams of others
Nose to nose and feet to feet
Every Paris in the morning
When the mist...
Is on the street.