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French Exchange

They were human, these frogs, we discovered.
Their parents, hospitably wizened, chirped
and made elaborate breakfasts. By day,
crammed breathless in hot coaches, we tagged
around exhibits, cathedrals, on outings;
exchanged rude words in French
as tiresome toys blipped.

One day, the other group returned
with shining eyes: some wretch, they said,
had launched his frame from off the Eiffel Tower;
had arced through limp air
till cement clasped his body.
We bickered, enthralled, and pressed for
gruesome details.

Days later, I smirked as I wrote:
"The French exchange broadened my cultural horizons
and improved my communication skills."