Poem for Paris in November

violet air. ce soir.

music plays in Paris.

and the worst elements of us

whisper.

and the best, they leave here, they drift,

then, exit;

from a summit, a harmony, a chorus. from montmartre.

silence settles on Paris.

midnight settles.

i’d –

i’d dry your blood if i could.

please. ce soir.

the air is violet. dormez bien, chéri.