He crouched and gazed along the Rue de Rivoli,
Through the crowds, rife with energy.
He was correct and true in his assessment
And in his statement,
Although she protested, accusing him of
An inaccuracy.
But he persisted with logic.
Clearly the evidence proved his point.
But her memory of her previous Parisian travels
Was her evidence
And she refuted his argument.
Thinking how he might persuade her,
Again, with logic,
And perhaps with greater emotion,
He took a breath to speak.
But she interrupted him:
Why is it so important for you to be right?
That stopped him mid-argument.
He thought it important that at least she know he was right
Because, frankly, he was right.
Just look at the street in relation to the Seine!
The evidence proved it!
But why, why, why was it important for him to be right?
He pondered the reasons
And pondered some more
And realized there were none.
He turned to her to announce his revelation:
It wasn’t important, after all!
But she had wandered off in search of a café.