Every fantasy begins in Paris
Especially the recovering romantics who sits outside the mother of all cathedrals praying with the dirt and glory of a failed love enshrined beneath her fingernails
Some cities look like a wet dog that's been beaten
And I can say that about New Haven, if it even counts as a city
And I can say that about Moscow, about Rome, about Cairo; mid-sand storm fluttering in a skirmish of red dust
And even Philly with its sewers and its bridges and its rust
But not Paris

The grandeur of Paris is not lost, not even the rain
My second night, jet lagged in heart sore
I sat up writing after I awoke soaked from a dream where you made love to me
Your body laid over me like an ocean trying to keep the secret of sand
The waves saying to the land, that you are not gold but you belong to me, even now you belong to me

And all of Paris belongs to me
And I belong to this notebook and this pencil
And I sat repeating this phrase
Listening to the unusual weather sing its musical as it stenciled the black rain like drop pupils into the face of concrete
I was reminded of the night we sat reading Baldwin and a loft not big enough for us to stand in when the rain beat its head against the roof then too

I wanted to enter the downpour in my nightgown
Let it drown me in the nostalgia that I am yet too young to make a mantra of
Let it chase me through the cobbled streets, sleek with Parisian lights
Let it find me weak with love and guillotines and truffled mushrooms
And love and sauce au and subway carts
And love and sidewalk cafes

And did I mention love
I mean Paris is the place where the lingerie shops are named Darjeeling
If that doesn't make you think of sleeping next to a woman and then waking up next to that same woman and kissing her with the mouth of morning and then together making tea
I don't know what does

With the clouds passing overhead in a parade of grey mist
I waltz with my mother to Napoleon's tomb to the cheek of the Mona
Through the bear trillerie garden decorated with not a single flower
But I waltz with her past the bronze statue looking like a choir of bronze ghost paths
The gossiping fountain and the homeless woman shouting at the top of her lungs
This chair belongs to me and all the hoopla belongs to me and it did
It was made for the rich but ever since it was the unspoken home for people who need to forget and to remember
And I am remembering to forget you as best I can but damn it you belong to me
If only in between the shoulders of September and only for the width of fall
Those days spent walking downtown with you
I could wrap my arms around the whole bouquet of autumn but you didn't stay

Anyway we waltzed, my mother and me and when she grew tired I danced without a lovers arms or any music at all
Never fearing looking like a fool
Because people understood that I was American and this was Paris with its star-shaped heart
With its alive with its people and with its carousels and ferris wheels and its palaces decorated with gold leaf
And lollipop shaped trees and all the couples pruning each other with their kisses
And all the well clad children learning that puddles are good for footprints, sketching their names in the mud
Like these boots they belong to me and I belong to this Earth
And everyone should fall in love in Paris if not for ever then at least once

The city is so romantic
You asked me how romantic
I wanted to tell you that even its marble has a voice
I heard it ask me why isn't he here, why isn't he kissing you
My heart exploded into a champagne bottle full of tears
I said because he doesn't feel the same and it said you fool
Did you forget I belong to you, what are you crying for
You're in Paris in the rain and the city is weeping too
She's bearing her soul to you
But somehow she's not one bit sad