there is little love scattered
on these Parisian streets,
and my breath quakes each time
one reaches out to tug at my fingertips.
i am pulled—
away from these pavings, and away
from the magpies pecking at my lips—
to where the sky is closest
in its shallow mirage
in the Seine.
and if nothing finds me there
but the quietude of my longing peeking out
through the reddened leaves,
then at least
i would have walked.
••ari purkayastha
and so you say..