It COULD have been a GREAT apartment. It was in Paris, after all. But, alas, it was January, and the FAINT winter light struggled to reach us. It was a weak glow through the window that looked out on what seemed no better than an air SHAFT, that narrow opening in the center of the building. We’d lean out as far as possible, in an effort to see if the sun was shining or if it was raining. Our accuracy was remarkably low.

Georg’ann

You got a root beer FLOAT,
I got a chocolate malt.
Walking through the CRAFT show,
hand in hand. Straws to lips.
Warm, cold, sweet.
We sat under a little bridge
looking for crawdads
in the creek.
A SHAFT of sunlight
came through the slats
highlighting the freckles
sprinkled across your cheek.

Heather