i sometimes think i am a great pretender

we fell asleep facing each other with our hands held as though we were about to arm wrestle or play 'mercy'. checking the belly of the sun as it hovers , i know it is late but i am early. still, after a too-leisurely breakfast i have to run to rue du temple to meet two friends for ballet class.

drinking cafe au lait on the terrace of les marronniers in the marais, the four of us nestle into the sunlight & the pauses in conversation to watch people people watch.

my room is full of dying flowers & there are chalk drawings of art-deco stencils on my doorstep & white fig outlines that have been left for me on the walls. i find it hard to be open, but apparently am very easy to read. let's end this, let's be friends instead. you knew just what i wanted but i didn't know what to say.