Paris

[conqueror49worm]

So, we moved out to a city
where the buildings scrape the sky
like a nick in your thumbnail
before the polish dries.

You push your cuticles back,
take a cubicle sack lunch
in a brown paper bag,
while I try not to ask for too much.

If I have anything you want,
I swear that you can have it.
I will drop it at your doorstep
like a scared, drooping rabbit.
So, we moved to an apartment
with Gauguin in all the halls;
but we could hang poor finger paintings.
I wouldn't mind at all.

(Welcome to O'Hare.
Here's to what scares us.
and to Margate Park.
Welcome to Paris.)