Start a story or poem with "The last time I saw Paris..." http://revisesober.blogspot.com/
It's certainly not my best, and I'll probably be revising it 'cause I want to play with making it more Apocalyptic feeling. But I have to go home now, so here's what I've got. :)
-------------------------------------------------------The last time I saw Paris it wasn't called Paris and I had a shotgun in my hand. When a man approached me, his mouth open in a horrid facsimile of a smile, I shot him in the gut and as he stumbled to his knees, his mouth still gaping, I turned and ran. The echo of my gunshot lingered so I didn't hear him pull himself up to his elbows and begin to crawl after me, dragging his desiccated legs after him. I knew from past experience that when the sun began to sink, its orange glow obscured by the fires of burning bodies, the dead no longer stay dead. The upside-down pyramid of the Louvre glimmered in the vestiges of sunlight as I ran past it, mocking me with its normality and the memories of the last time I had been in the city and it was full of light and laughter and life. I turned a corner, slid across a patch of something that did not bear examining, and slid home five deadbolts while drawing the bedraggled drapes. The last remaining streetlight on my block sputtered to life. All across the city, the dead raised their heads and howled.
I held my breath and counted the corpses shambling past my window. Every one I killed today was one less in the morning.
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