i spent all night looking at old pictures of us in Paris…photos of you by the Seine…views from the Eiffel Tower over-looking all of a city and beyond…shots of me by that horrible atrocity created by Pei outside the Louvre…so awkward…something so new next to something so old…didn’t make any sense…didn’t make any sense…

looked through dated pics of cafes where we strolled-by in St. Germain…little cars…you were fascinated by small cars…automobiles that looked like seventeen clowns piled out of them…didn’t make any sense…didn’t make any sense…

our marriage lasted twelve years…with affairs…fighting…trying to stay away from the bottle…more affairs…more fighting…you wanted control…i wanted less restrictions…gone was Paris…gone…didn’t make any sense…didn’t make any sense…