From Paris, when i was younger and falling in love with watching well:

this cafe
in afternoon-
a portal-
this middle aged woman’s wrist alone leaning
towards another wine glass in this type
of white sheer pen hole vignetted sun tone,
a kingdom
in itself. A new wave of knowing, again simple things.
And the old man who runs the place
and has been
watching afternoons like this
forever. His
knowing
smile, having
taken it all in, having
gathered so many
afternoons
into a bouquet.
So, by the end of
his life, having learned to see so well,
a single afternoon-this is his
eternity.
And she finally
spoke
after having had a sip or two-“life is
how well
you dwell
in afternoon
with one
another.”