For Poulenc
by Frank O’Hara

My first day in Paris I walked
from Saint Germain to the Pont Mirabeau
in soft amber light and leaves
and love was running out
city of light and hearts
city of dusk and dismay
the Seine believed it to be true
that I was unloved and alone
how lonely is that bridge
without your song
the Avenue Mozart, the rue Pergolèse
the tobaccos and the nuns
all Paris is alone for this
brief leafless moment
and snow falls down upon
the streets of our peculiar hearts