Paris

I have opened up to the rain
and the cool damp air of night.
White cockies squawk in the dark
complaining about the weather change
after a day of blue autumn.
The house is silent.
All gone to bed.
And it's not just the coffee
that's keeping me awake I swear
in my suburban forties
but thinking: Paris
and why anyone would want to go there
in the middle of winter.

(1989)