Apartif

I was in Paris,
Wandering from place to place
For the jewel of the Seine
Is too Metropolitain
For two short days.
Staring at a transit map
I didn't see he was
Coming but heard his heels
Knocking closer and closer
On the pavement sidewalk.
No notice from him.
He was fixed on what
I cannot say, but
Positively the cigarette
Whose butt he was suckling.
All too nasty to tell
How soon I saw the
Collected dirt on the
Stone and concrete around me,
Grey and black on grey.
There was room for two on the path,
And as he passed
He flicked the remainder straight out sideways
Onto an abandoned street.
I contend on the uncommonality
Of meeting a man alone
On a Paris avenue at midday.
Behind him flung a black coat in the wind,
Flapping to his rapid pace,
A certain deliberation in
Coming and going and flipping
Used butts along the way.
I couldn't say why I stayed
A little longer than convention allows,
But there was something about
The stale stillness of the city air and
The way he'd ditched that cigarette
That made me doubt my own direction.
"Here, by here, then here, this is
Where I'm going." I set out
For my own appointments,
However undecided they were.
The sky was enough and
The city enough to get me started,
While my mind replayed, replayed
The memories of departed.