On the fly for Pope Bongo , III
I believe it was Rio. The lights and the sounds, the merriment. we passed on the street, both turning to speak and you asked "vous aimez le cafe?" in your formal-esque French and my soft drawl replied, "coffee"? We sat at the cafe animation, speaking of words and lost loves, exchanging addresses promising to stay in touch. We never did. You returned to the states to your wife and child and I to my university and books. And how often have you thought of Rio? As often as I?
