Sprinting through the fog

Seen and born and heard and felt

Shining skin, frigid air, enlivening of all the things

Wet pavement, calloused hand, comfort, come with me

I know a local place, stay for hours

Wet ground, dry wine,

We are alive as music swells, the sway of former things

Thick oils on the walls, comfort, mother, guidance, come with me

Horns and deep vocals, rasp, clasp my hand in yours

Two languages collide, laundry lists of stories

Blaring light refracting, flashing from the Seine

Jump in, ride along in the sweltering swerve, come with me

We are the Spring leaves, swaying, soaking in water

Our sneakers run on the pavement— ancient, tiny minuscule

Pieces under—former lovers, grandfathers at war,

Ancestors crawling forward, holding onto the stem, come with me

The Seine is life, it breathes, it moves, it peaks, it guides

Sit beside it, touch heaven, touch wood,

The Seine is danger, the Seine is lifespan, everything we need

And everything we lose, ebbing and bobbing with spray, come with me

Until the leaves freeze over and fall and die. Seen and born and heard and felt and gone

come with me

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