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Pour le vagabond

Pour le vagabond

On his most recent work, E.R. Pulgar takes us on a walk through Paris that spans sunbathing on the Seine and getting lost in the neon lights of Montmartre.

This one's for the vagabonds.


I once loved a girl who told me she dreamed of traveling the world, bumming cigarettes and hitchhiking through beautiful cities, untroubled and unscheduled. This poem is about the day I lived her dream.

Pour Le Vagabond

Bumming drunk Seine cigs
by the lover’s lock bridge,
cuts on hands, feet, lips
from days walking,

gnawing on my thumb
blessed by Notre Dame,
smelling of fresh bread
and Parisian sunbeams.

Wine-stained knapsacks,
faded blue bikes,
sweaty brows—
it’s not 20:00

and the streets call
for lamplight,
midnight show songs,
Chat Noir cabarets,

young summers,
vibrant July’s,
xo’d purple lipstick mirrors
and towers glimmering yellow.

 

19:09 | 27.05.2016
Paris, France


E.R. Pulgar was born in Venezuela and raised in Miami amidst palm trees, gritty night life, and dreams of New York City. His work has appeared in Dagda Publishing, Brio and the Gallatin Review. His writing encompasses sex, mysticism, and its context in modern love. He attends New York University, where he is majoring in music journalism, poetry, and film. He lives in Brooklyn. 

@er_pulgar | erpulgarwrites@gmail.com

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