An Aerostar arrived in Charles de Gaulle Station,
fresh with London rain. The Parisian clouds looked tame
and people strode out upon the wet streets, bravely.

I dreamed I lived in Paris for a while
before I headed home to America.

My heart felt thick as clouds, but my worries were transparent;
Even after the rain stopped, I saw trains racing, everywhere—

Lost loves were left behind.
I need to walk on, as I crossed the Seine
on the Pont de Arts to the other side of the Louvre.

I wish I had a lover there,
a piece of silver painted on the clouds ahead.
I am alone now; it is enough to be here.