09.21.06. Paris. Monparnasse. France

Affirmation here, is found in glances – a moment, a minute –

sometimes longer.

Here I sit in a corner café, a young man, late 20s

black motorbike at light, stares at me longingly.

This is wholly French.

American men seem crude by contrast.

You tell me, you get this affirmation too!

I roll my green eyes sideways – breaking news!

My husband desired by others!

Of course I see this. I am a journalist, after all.

I see those young girls, 20s, 30s, 40s…

How your eyes hook on their admiring glances –

especially of the young.

Those French girls in their tight t-shirts with their sweet-heart necklines

just low-cut enough; their perfect honey-toned skin, it reaches down, down, down.

Do you imagine then, the length of their limbs?

You tell me No. The look itself is affirmation enough.

How I’d love to believe.

How my eyes roll again; second time.

Too often I have seen you look back.

I watch your gaze follow each step,

as each she disappears around the corner,

out of sight, straight up the stairs of the Metro.

It’s all part of the job: to record the days news,

no matter how horrible. No matter how the hurt.

My byline remains stable. My photo a frozen smile.