One night in Paris.

The water ran all night
to trickle down the surface of
staling teeth and Sangria.
While the night is suddenly
calm

with parting clouds
a looming tower
promising a view
of the city
non-transferable.

This room is foul
as the forgotten brushing
and one hour in Paris
proves the brazen Italian
to ask a girl to coffee.

"Don't you have time
to have just one drink
with me?"
No Sir,
no Sir I don't.

Can't you see?
You are too old for me.
Like a city that whispers,
"Tell me your dreams."
and follows suspicious
down the alleys of Thursday.