Friday, July 16, 2010

#213 The Survivor

That was the year
we wintered in
Montparnasse. The 
ferry, I remember, 
was empty apart
from us, might never 
have sailed except 
its skipper lived 
on the other side 
of the river & she 
wanted to get 
home that night. Up-
stream was thick
with forest. There
were fireworks 
somewhere. I heard 
them, but I did not 
see their bloom.