A ce petit garçon

(at the crosswalk in front of Barnes & Noble, Evanston, IL, USA)

To the little boy who babbled in French
at the crosswalk, somewhere at the intersection of my home
and a lost way
between worlds sewn together through language,
woven and unwound by the anticipation of journeys;
To the brief seconds I shared amidst his voice
illuminated 
on a wintery autumn night by the halo of his child’s gaze,
All I’d like to say in passing
is bonne nuit
and good night