by Rob Couteau

Published in: Mochila Review, spring 2011 (MO: St. Joseph)

Cobblestones (pavé)
When wet,
the pavé
with our human sound:
sound of Isabella
as she moans ~
delighted flesh
upon flesh ~
and burps
her homemade
Portuguese wine.
Sound of John Lee Hooker’s
Mississippi Delta Blues,
in austere Paris gloam.
Sound of a wine glass
~ clink ~
and Isabella’s heels
skimming across the pavé
as she runs
to catch the last métro.
Sound of a coin bouncing
off my windowpane
when she returns
the next day,
her laughter animating
the dead
dry stones
that bear us


This poem is featured in:

The Sleeping Mermaid, poems by Rob Couteau;
with an Introduction by Christopher Sawyer-Lauçanno



 fine art

Updated: 13 June 2011 | All text Copyright © 2011 | Rob Couteau | key words: erotic by expatriates poetry about cobblestones wine poems about Paris France