A Paris Bookstore

To read is to need
To feel a rage.
A rage for things that cannot be;
Like peace.
Rage and cry, please
Cry until you love –
Please love
Me, you, and everyone
Even the bankers and oil barons

A book told us to love like it hurts,
like it’s a choice
We never stood a chance.
Now, she’s gone, and we’re gone
We left not long after Notre Dame
Mouthing lust in hallowed halls.
We saw the Seine,
We smelled the piss
We drank in the cemeteries and saw the sun set

We met one night, she sucked me off
I made her come and then we left
Wondering where in the night did we leave the meaning
I get it. We all get it.
I saw the poor and I did nothing
I saw the tower and I did nothing
I nearly missed my flight because we were fucking
But I sent a postcard, and that meant something



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