Polaroids from Paris
12/6
We’re dancing in the rain,
Blurred limbs and frozen smiles,
Two figures breathing in the city,
Crimson and light blue.
Silver beads outline our features,
Refreshing streaks, a long-awaited interlude,
Private euphoria captured,
Misty lens forever obscures.
15/6
We’re walking down the Rue de la Paix,
Strutting with feathers and frivolity,
Untouchable and naive in our self-absorption,
Pretending we’re the last relics of French aristocracy,
I’m flaunting the necklace you bought me,
Entwined with me like a promise,
Our love, pure as the sterling silver,
Enduring and resistant to corrosion.
17/6
We’re poised and regal,
Portrait of elegant devotion
Juxtaposing careless conceptions,
Inner reckless abandon.
Pinkies raised to this timeless city,
Red wine siphoning away incompatible memories,
Slowly, insidiously, muting our doubts,
Intoxicated by holiday air.
19, 22, 24, 28/6
We’re stuck in unending tableaux,
Polaroid after Polaroid,
Guaranteeing everlasting distraction.
But out of the frame I’m striking a match
12/12
We’re dancing in the flames,
Blurred limbs and fleeting smiles,
Two figures inhaled by the city,
Crimson and fading blue.
