fiona,
with allan poe, and
typewriter

sometimes days
are just colours, and
two people

meeting there, crossing
street hills cobbling
downwards, swinging
chair outside
together and talking of letters,
haikus,
cooking upstairs –
attic kitchen.
to the bakery
for rolls, practicing
practicing my numbers eins
zwei

fiona wears black and speaks excellent french.
i can’t help it, fiona
that i do not have any lovers.