Facades

I think Paris could save our dreams she said.

I want midnights

and the Seine

pacing steps at the Sacre Coeur

Montmarte artists’ bleeding hearts.

We would share a creme anglaise apartment

and downstairs there would be a creperie.

I would smile at the waiter everyday

comforted

he never smiled back at me.

We would drink Martini Rose

visit the Bastille on warm days

and probably earn how to smoke a cigarette

as some cafe

up the street

from where we live

watching our dreams still fly away.