Rendezvous at Le Train Bleu of the Cynic and the Feminist
She was reluctant to go…
She had better things to do
Than meet a strange fellow with a bad reputation
At le Train Bleu, that succulent restaurant of love and desire.
She’d heard too many negative things about him
Too many peculiar and strange stories
That made her feel ill at ease,
Having to make this rendezvous.
His reputation didn’t inspire any confidence,
That he was a man worth knowing
Never mind meeting.
Or giving the time of day to.
All she knew about him was how adept he was
At slinging mud and tearing people apart
With his cynical tongue and vented bile
In his political column in a satirical rag of ill repute.
All he knew of her was that she was a hard-lined activist
Who loved, lost, and rose again to the feminist cause.
He too was reluctant to go and had better things to do
Than meet her at Train Bleu, that succulent restaurant of love and desire.
She felt put-upon by her friends
Pressurized into keeping this rendezvous
To meet this strange fellow with a bad reputation
To willingly expose herself to his cynicism and bile.
In their wisdom, her friends thought they should meet
But she couldn’t understand why they were so keen
As they were strangers with nothing in common -
A cynic and feminist from different spheres of reality.
She was more annoyed than nervous
As she scanned the restaurant for this devious man
Her feminist claws sharpened and ready to do business
With this strange man who relished in cynicism and bile.
But her first impression of him took her by surprise.
He didn’t look wild or unruly as she had been led to believe.
Or like a man with a bad reputation
Ready to slit your throat with the sharp edge of his tongue.
She had been prepared to treat him with contempt
To let him know she disliked him although she didn’t know him,
That she was only there under duress
To satisfy the whims of her deluded friends.
He sat calmly reading and sipping his espresso
Relaxed and at ease with the world about him.
He was handsome too, she conceded and much older than she,
With an air of intelligence about him and groomed to perfection.
He looked up as she introduced herself.
He was startled by her presence as he was expecting an older woman
A hard, harsh woman with scars of battle and tedium
Not one with a soft complexion and eyes to die for.
There was no awkwardness in their conversation
As they had expected there would be
Her feminist anger had disappeared
And his cynicism was nowhere to be seen.
They sat for hours chatting and laughing
It was as though they had known each other for years.
They were locked in each other’s world
As once more le Train Bleu sprinkled its magical charm.
They dined on l’Escargot petis gris and tender l’agneau
And stimulated their senses with Le baba au rhum
All washed down with a few bottles of Chateau Reysson
And intoxicated by the warmth of their unexpected love.
A little connivance by friends had set their passions ablaze
And love bloomed in the splendour of le Train Bleu
Where the cynic and the hard lined feminist saw the light of day.
And succumbed to the charm and magic that is le Train Bleu.
Le Train Bleu, Gare de Lyon, 12ème