I’d lose myself in Bordeaux
I’d find myself in Paris
In a cafe at the bar
Looking out the window watching people pass.
“Would you like a cigarette?” A tiny case pops open.
Looking down, “I don’t smoke.”
I find your face
You find mine
“May I sit?” A question, an answer, “You may.”
In a cafe you sit with two coffees-black
Sweet as summer
I lose myself in Paris.