A very talented painter.
He painted a piece
for me
– my request.
He had a Prince Albert.
It happens.

The Parisian sky is red.
Reflected in the
rainy street.
Six persons – male?
female?
Wearing black garb,
carrying black umbrellas.
It happens.

One lone man walks
uncovered in
the rain.
It happens.

The street is warm.
Lamps and yellow
windows.
Above a café.
A newspaper kiosk
across the way.
A vague skyline
in the distance.

Billy was reluctant
to sign it.
It happens.

He’s not here
anymore.
Off to the big city,
designing
tattoos and
painting fog.


© Lewis Bosworth, 2014