the sun slowly settles
beneath the horizon line
of a european city;
I do not know her
the odor – the moisture – the flavor of-
for I have never been-
to paris

I know not her breath
inside my lungs, upon my tongue
filling my mouth, nor on my lips
for all this, I imagine;
sitting on a bare chair
sipping a cup of tea
drawn white curls of steam
rising
up into the moon
like a balloon
escaping
a child’s flight;

to know the lights
of her street lights
enchanting my eyes, dancing, inside,
to listen-
to a foreign language
in a native land
and I imagine
inherent comprehension
innately – I understand;

I pause, to gaze at my feet
reflections bouncing
down the cobbled stone street
stone by stone, skipping
as cars pass by,
as I fade into a trance
into this known, dream

perhaps a concocted reality
from a place I have only seen
in pictures and scenes
how familiar this might feel
but a great ocean between-
there and I
tells the truth of tales-
I need to see her
for myself
(one day, perhaps, my dear)

notes… as always, I try to put the fear out of my mind, the losing of the muse, catching the tail of her… sometimes the ideas are like a deluge, but with that also comes drought, and doubt… I am human after all… but sometimes I still, even after writing all these years, have to be ok with a pause… the time in between sometimes feels like life times, but it is but a blink, the trick is making your peace with it as an artist… sometimes you are on fire, sometimes you are the last ember in the furnace, until that last flicker… you are alive, so, be with it… this piece was out of nowhere for me, it just fell into place, as I drove home, listening to the above classical piece, and the words came to me from the universe… how else can I explain it ? the words came, the urge came, I had to pull over and write down the words as they came to me… been awhile, and such an exhilarating feeling,so, cheers, to the muse, whatever that is, god, the universe, the earth, star dust.. who the hell knows.. and I am OK with not knowing…