Pont des Arts / St Germain

In another trip to the pont des arts Clare’s friend Micki has her hip against the rail, a beret cupping her twist of black hair. It is pure coincidence. But she’s an LA chick so we might as well be running into her in the Beverly Center. Her hostel costs ninety franc. (“Franc”, singular) Micki is Demi’s assistant and Clare is Bruce’s. And here we all are on the Pont des Arts.
We are Parisian enough now that we could say without explanation, Meet me on the pont des Arts. In fact, explanation would be read as an insult.
That cold day I ended up with ten or fifteen FRANC in my guitar case. after playing Unhappy Song, when my fingers were red and stiff, I packed up the guitar and took jackson’s hand, hoping he’d just forget about the car.
The trees on the quai are fingers, claws, black, scratching the blue slate sky.