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.