bus leaves on the hour took off running
another city I cannot call home
the unfamiliar is not readable press nose to glass instead
between in and out resistance to see through
before this empty road men called home “in the marsh”
the driver said take time before Paris to forget everything
grand palace I must have missed it
van der Weyden never knew to paint
gaufres no appetite after moules
dreamless being now is nothing seen
assumed I’d be French simple acting with pretentious thought
a vision of Last Year at Marienbad black in the Luxembourg garden
charmed by petite princes zealous after school
hoping hands catch sailboat’s shadow a manipulation on water
expected I would use this page placing Boulevard Saint-Michel
I cannot write what I do not feel
wish he’d send words before me I have not seen the letters yet
this time tomorrow thought will be on
Colette, her cat a life developing between my hands
until instant of the tower twinkle a Christmas tree unthinkably seen
not the city I forgot in transit nor the one I found in fiction but could not feel in life
5351 Banyan Drive home the only place my heart may be
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