the city

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i felt sick as we descended towards the city
the city in which i had loved you
we were passing through a turbulent cloud
but i had started crying earlier
in krakow
listening to kyoto in my daily mix
(and then later to florence in athens)
maybe it was the tuna sandwich that should not remind me of you
but the knot has been there
in the middle of my solar plexus
for a couple of days now
since you told me that i had been the worst experience of your life,
that neither of us had had the curiosity to see beyond whatever we were each projecting
you didn’t like that line i wrote about you
“my mouth was not meant for that” you said
but it kept garnering meaning
with every punch
like moss on a stone
but in the same way you have fists to punch
and lungs to shout
and a mouth too small
you have legs to walk
so walk, go, i release you
and like the sun beaming back at me
through the clouds
reflected in the winding rivers down below
on my way to paris
i, too, will burn on