“Paris Night by Lindsey Talbott

The man on the crowded bus spat at us hand in hand on the bridge I said fuck you to the stranger who called you a black bastard he knocked me to the ground and would have done more but his friends told him are you a coward that you would hit a woman they did not help me up your mother said white girls are sluts and westerners make disloyal friends my mother said children of mixed marriages get teased at school

I mostly remember I wore a white dress with ribbons laced into the neck. We ate falafel from a street vendor, hot, crisp, softly spiced within, licking salt and oil from our fingers. We danced over the Seine through the summer air, coming to rest in the shadow of Hotel de Ville, adoration in your face as you looked into the mirror of mine, you and the fountains lit from some mysterious source within the water”