a cold day in Paris

The poetry prompt is contemporary cityscape for Haibun Monday at d’Verse poetry pub, but shaken not stirred with non-traditional form. I chose the fib.

A Line 6 train of the Paris Métro pulling into Passy station from the east off the Pont de Bir-Hakeim in Oct. 2007.

My wife and I check out. Hurry downstairs across the street to the café. He is waiting outside, a black man, we are white, we embrace. A poet friend met through my blog. An interview through coffee: he leaves for work, we have a train to catch. Around the circle to Rue de l’Alboni, past the swirling traffic and the blinking green cross. I hold her hand. I always thought New York was a fast city, but Paris… ah… the Gallic shrug, just this once, being an Ugly American would be justified. Instead, I smile and pull my leather jacket closer. I love trains. I walk east down the platform. The light is crisp, the iron work and glass, all sharp angles: I pause where the overhang meets the stone lattice on the building across the tracks. All the vertical and horizontal lines: I wait for the carriages. Rubber wheels silent.

Pont
de
Bir-Hakeim
reveals Tour Eiffel
wrought iron dominates bright sky