after a photo by Saul Leiter, “Paris, 1959”
in Paris, a café
a tiny round table
she writes on the smallest
scrap of paper available
her words must be exact
precise, capable of
economy of space
all to be accomplished
with a fountain pen
there is a seltzer bottle
there is a newspaper
there is coffee, there is milk
there is sugar, there is no
bottle of ink, there is a haze
in the air, there are passersby
because she is outside
and the light is exquisite
every day I reach
every day I reach
a thousand times
above my head
for a glass or plate



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