I was there
with you
when the Nazis marched in.
I remember
the small bistro
near the arc
Mademoiselle.
We were getting smashed
on Beaujolais,
I was curling
strands of your hair
between
my cigarette fingers,
whispering love
& getting lost
in your azure eyes.
When the smoked cleared,
things were never the same.
You left early one morning
in a boxcar
& I went underground
to defeat the juggernaut.
I never got your name,
just remembered you
were such a pretty femme.