Falling
in the cobblestone
orange
thumbing through maps
of the
Roman Empire,

And the street musicians are
playing their sad songs of
days on end

Where the food carts are sizzling,
and the flowers,
in full bloom,

la vie, la vie, c'est la vie, mon amour

the blood in my chest
can feel the blood in yours
(and in me too)
for the first time in four
years

I couldn't offer
myself to you, love,
and I know
you wouldn't take me
if I did.

falling in love,
falling in
cobblestones of
orange
isn't sweet
or sincere

it's rigid
and sharp.
It's planks of wood
with splinters missing
rusting barbwire.

It's sleeping at night
with your ghost
words and
your image
in my mind
and everything I couldn't say
would never say

And the street musicians are
playing their sad songs of
days on end

Where the food carts are sizzling,
and the flowers,
in full bloom,

*la vie, la vie, c'est la vie, mon amour