Self-Portrait as Brett in The Sun Also Rises

The last time I saw him he wore another life

with the tie I gave him in spring.

In the space between his cufflink and wine glass

I tried to collect myself—

was it Paris, or perfume on my wrists?

You don’t want to mix emotions with wine, he said.

You lose the taste.

All day I have circled the same cafés.

Women like to sing a red song no matter who’s listening.

Life could be darling, I thought during my cigarette.

We could live on devotional glances—

and take dinner in our best black, on the Champs-Élysées.