Sonya loved Paris
loved the cafés
the streets
the Tower

the people
the ideas
the artists  
and we stood on a bridge

looking
at the river below
she dressed
in that pink dress

with patterns
her blonde hair
in a pony tail
her blue eyes

drinking in
the scene  
we'd just been
to the art gallery

and studied
the Impressionist painters
Monet is my favourite
she said

I could drink him in
all day
the way he paints
soothes me

and at the same time
stirs me up
I was dressed
in pink flared trousers

and white
open necked shirt
with the sleeves
rolled up

I like Van Gogh best
I said
his passion touches me
we moved off the bridge

looking for a café
for a coffee
Vincent drove himself mad
with his search

for truth
she said
too uptight for me
too deep and dark

we found a café
and sat outside
and ordered two coffees
we lit cigarettes

and smoked
and talked more
she about Kierkegaard
the philosopher

and Either/Or
I sat watching her
taking in her hair
the way

she moved her jaw
as she talked
the fine lips
her eyes

that Vincent
would have loved
and how
the night before

we lay in bed
looking out the open window
at the Parisian sky
and the moon

and us and ***
and wanted then
to be back there
all too soon.