I found you in an empty room off a quiet street in small town.
Debussy fell through holes above our heads as you spoke softly,
soon becoming torrent, turning into ink upon the page.
A cellphone & a camera lay still upon a table top as time
unloaded outside in the street & shoppers waited patiently for signs
that everything was alright. Transactions, Love & Money & the sound
of urgent feet running late through the rain. A simple sign, a luxury
to wake & know that everything is in it’s place again.