For Stewart
Nestled in the coves of Paris, with amaretto biscuits
and an egg cup of espresso, I listen for your call.
As the daylight calms, tempering into a blue lull, I
tap my foot to the buckling of the sea —
honeydew moon.
O’ Paris, with your hourglass, lead me to my odyssey.
Shipwrecked in your hollowed out torso, starry eyed.
Astride in front of the mirror, you flexed your muscles.
They bobbed playfully like large pearls on a silver spoon.
How long can a memory last? Will I remember the
subtle inflections of your candour? Maybe, however slowly.
Your decadence colours the Seine —as tart as a strawberry. O’ honey, we had a blast.
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