A tender-hearted friend who loves cats, and who bears some resemblance to Jim Morrison, just told me that he was prevented from visiting Jim's grave at Pere Lachaise in Paris.  Sounds as if his ex didn't want him to slide into some darkly romantic fantasy.  (Honey, poets are going to go down that slide one way or another, "on extended wings," or with a "woosh!" Just get out of the way--) 

My daughter and I recently visited Pere Lachaise.  I wanted to pay my respects to Paul Eluard; Heather wanted to explore the sacred ground of great artists.  Chopin's grave is covered with mounds of flowers.   Balzac had none, so we spent extra time with him.  I was shocked to see that Eluard was buried far from his soul mate, Nusch. The poet was interred alongside the heroes of the Resistance, his beloved was all the way on the other side of the cemetery. To be fair, there were other women in Paul Eluard's life.  When it came time to plant him, maybe the third wife leapt at the war-hero plot!

Eluard was a member of the French Resistance, he maintained an underground press during the war, and his poems were leafletted by the RAF over Occupied territories.  He and Nusch hid together during the war, part of the time in a mental hospital.   Paul Eluard's mother was Jewish, and that put him in double jeopardy.

Jim Morrison's grave is littered with flowers.  And there's a regal cat who never leaves.  Some people think it's the spirit of Jim, a revenant.  Some just think the kittty stays because visitors with cameras abound, and every day brings a new opportunity to pose.  Darling, who could resist a gig like that!