07 February 2011


Belleville is the Brooklyn of Paris,
and you can see how the air moves around people there. 
As I walked I only felt
the slightest brush of wind on my face-
as if to say
if you weren't here, no one would notice.

Everyone is a stranger in Belleville. 
The streets drag on like improv jazz-
sharp words and low dips
and swirls of mini tornados. 

One day I will find the man
for whom the wind dances,
and his heart will be swollen with sincerity. 
He will be generous with his love, his time, and his experiences...
and will convince the air to move for me. 

1 comment:

cloudgathererholdmedown said...

this is all kinds of beautiful