Again

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

Conversing longingly

I lose myself in Paris.