Paris in the morning

sitting at the sidewalk cafe

sipping on café crème

a cognac on the side

feeling all greyed out

wondering if it was too early for a cigar

in the distance I can hear the ting ting

of a small iron bell

in front of me a streetsweeper

arranges a bundle of carpet

to guide the water down the gutter

& without thought the wonder comes on

how where does he live?

a wife a lover with his mother?

is he hungover too?

I come back to the café my coffee getting cold

take a sip there then a sip of the cognac

feeling the warmth come on

& begin to think of my lover

our affair growing cold

back there in the hotel

wondering what today will bring

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