found a bar in Lyon where the wine
was cheap to free, and that old sweet song
brought "Georgia" back to me. Through
the blur of trains, mountains, accents, somewhere
I fell into the painting, but that song, that day
shook me loose. The world spun as I leaned
over the river, backwards, like I used to do
over our balcony in winter. This time only
the stone railing supported me as I stared
at the stars swirling under my toes.
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