Sonya loved Paris
loved the cafés
the streets
the Tower
the people
the ideas
the artists
and we stood on a bridge
looking
at the river below
she dressed
in that pink dress
with patterns
her blonde hair
in a pony tail
her blue eyes
drinking in
the scene
we'd just been
to the art gallery
and studied
the Impressionist painters
Monet is my favourite
she said
I could drink him in
all day
the way he paints
soothes me
and at the same time
stirs me up
I was dressed
in pink flared trousers
and white
open necked shirt
with the sleeves
rolled up
I like Van Gogh best
I said
his passion touches me
we moved off the bridge
looking for a café
for a coffee
Vincent drove himself mad
with his search
for truth
she said
too uptight for me
too deep and dark
we found a café
and sat outside
and ordered two coffees
we lit cigarettes
and smoked
and talked more
she about Kierkegaard
the philosopher
and Either/Or
I sat watching her
taking in her hair
the way
she moved her jaw
as she talked
the fine lips
her eyes
that Vincent
would have loved
and how
the night before
we lay in bed
looking out the open window
at the Parisian sky
and the moon
and us and sex
and wanted then
to be back there
all too soon.