I still wear the clothing from another life
used, full of stars
tips of light grow in pockets
the way you know me
lost in old bookstores
breathing in catalogs, sketches, engravings
with scattered memories
counting the bridges across Seine
transient boats

the clouds lay in bema
starved
they devour me
on this ineffable highway
in me
incendiary I wander
looking at the iron balconies
the geraniums, the summer colors
my fragile glass wings
clinging to the roofs

two kids smile
dying the Saint-Germain fountain
as if in a clover field
glistening with angels after rain