i. I SIT HERE on the damp concrete along the Seine gaping at the Eiffel Tower. Like me, she searches the night for glimpses of you. She waves her light around until it is time to rest, but not time to stop dreaming. Before she closes her eyes, she lets spurs of light rush through her entire body. It looks like she’s quivering. Or maybe she’s blushing. I think her heart is bursting.
ii. BEFORE I GO, I thought you should know, if there should be any evidence of “God,” of miracles or what have you, then it exists when I look at you. I suspect you were birthed by the Book of Psalms to carry such harmony. Ebullience. We took pictures together at Port de l’Arsenal, at Jardin des Luxembourg, at Place de la Concorde on the Ferris wheel. We asked a nice lady to take our picture. She thought we were dating. “Now kiss!” she said after counting down from three. You remember what happened next.
iii. ONE DAY, I won’t be here and you won’t be there. Paris and New York will just be cities. The Atlantic Ocean will just be water. We won’t be apart any longer. Perhaps we come from the same star: where hopefully one day, we will meet again.
iv. IF WE NEVER MEET AGAIN, but I am still stored in the rafters of your brain, then allow me to say a prayer for you in every cathedral in the city. May the grand arches and hallowed halls carry my whispers, reaching the heavens above. May my prayers find you even in the dark.
v. SOMEDAY, when you’re developing film in your darkroom next to someone else who adores you so, when the rippling sound of the sink water reminds you of lovers splashing in a lake, and the radio comes on, I hope you picture me in your head. I hope you see me again, even for a second.
vi. GO AHEAD. Tell me it doesn’t matter to you that you’ll never see me again. Tell me I’m not your first choice or even your second. Tell me anything. I beg of you, for this is the only way I can hear your voice.
vii. HARD ON MYSELF. (Hard for you.)
viii. LAST NIGHT I saw you in my dreams. There we were, back in your darkroom, rotating a roll of film into a reel with your hands guiding mine. When you speak, I can hear angels sighing in relief, or at least a faint Marvin Gaye song in the distance. I can’t wait to go back to sleep.
ix. I’M BACK in New York, dreaming of you, of the day we meet again. It kinda sucks being without you, but I hope it’s beautiful wherever you are. I might be here, but I am not home.
x. I’ll hear you in the wind.