The busiest street in Paris Cars passing by, their rush hour, not mine The ashes all seem to blow away No matter the weather They just blow away   A walk across the Seine And Harville’s to the north An ill-needed charm interrupting a man’s long-awaited confession And all the graffiti honoring Serge, our neighbor   Sleeping away in our small space To Gainsbourg I declare! And they all know the way On ticket too many under my coaster Keep them coming and I’ll keep counting   Why do you write what you write? To be read? Or to just say what you must? A Lord’s Prayer in her sleep And for me PJ Harvey and Modest Mouse   My hair flies this way and that Comte and service for…