The sunset seeped off the Seinedripping down our shoulders and fingersin the oranges of the Musée d’Orsaycigarette smoke danced in the scattering lightas if in symphonywith the orchestra of some far-off conductorto fall and rise and fall at once—the light lilting to our laughssplitting into a thousand piecesand we were caught in the center of ithung among the starssuspended in the disco ball of space. xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com