This beer was brewed in Prague,
far from these crooked miles of eternal November,
these long winters that often
stretch out into the fall.

I hold this drink because I can't hold you.
Because, all that I want is that vanity rainbow,
that fossil of love born in music,
and in our doubled desires.

Play a drunken chord for me
as you set your long fingers to the keys,
as you look to the cityscape's future,
and begin to sing for the past.

In faded suit, verse and rhyme,
I still cling to you. A poem of taxidermy,
small forget-me-nots and old love's tokens
to confirm that you were here at all.

I set flame to the Parisian lighter.
There is a hope that crowded breath
will bring you near, or else further away,
in the knowledge you shall never come back.