I think my grandmother would have.
She knew what that poem was about,
but she also wanted to go to Paris.
The first time I finally got to Paris,
I thought, yeah, she would have fit right in.
There are certain women, particularly
the women from the islands--
from Réunion, from Martinique--
they know how to own the sidewalk,
let's put it that way.
The Island Women of Paris.
"Skim from curb to curb like regatta,
from Pont Neuf to the Quai de la Rappe in cool negotiation with
traffic, each a country to herself transposed to the city
by a fluke called 'imperial courtesy.'
The island women glide past, held aloft
by a wire running straight to heaven.
Who can ignore their ornamental bearing,
turbans haughty as parrots, or deft braids
carved into airy cages, transfixed
on their manifest brows?
The island women move through Paris
as if they had just finished inventing their destinations.
It's better not to get in their way.
And better not look at an island woman in the eye--
unless you like feeling unnecessary."
[LAUGHTER]