No Number or Address

She's dancing in the Paris subway system:
metro steps on third-rail lines with the
glint of blue exit signs raining in her
peripheries, puddling with the chipped sclera
whites that flood into lakes of mascara-black-
regrets made when boyfriends left with no
number or address to their name.

She's another single number in
a city of 20; golden ratio
arrondissements that spiral out
from tall city tourist traps into
commuter nightmare, 2 bedroom
apartments built into forever town houses
that stretch back into courtyard barbeques
that burn in Linklater films late into
the night.