Paris
We went together, slept in Paris together
walked for hours hand in hand
neither of us in love
not with Paris or each other.
It was a kind of freedom
from unhinged ring-binder thoughts,
history came to us to die.
Our eyes sheared away
seeing only child-selves,
we were let loose to be
the sights we saw.
When the train stopped
everyone got off
to travel on,
we stayed in the station
sitting on a platform bench
watching the dust
on the softly singing rails.
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