NEW YORK CITY 1989

With the romantic
gone
here in the French
underground
once again
playing jazz
to a melody of Mahler
and Rameau
before a French mirror
doubled up
for Mallarme,
the wind
has Paris icicles
for us
in the restaurant
we murder croissants
by the portmanteau movies
of Jewish refugees
seeing bridal angels
of Chagall
in the night and fog
by a synagogue
of our passing.