PIERROT'S LAMENT TO HIS LOST  LOVER (abstract poem)

i bowed my obeisance to your high heels and neck nape whiff there in Gare Saint Lazare O sorrowful maiden of cloudy skies O blue openings into serene tranquil avenues our hands waltzing locked together down Boulevard Saint Germain the tall leafy trees fluttering their crisply accompanying chansons surely as every amateur musician was nodding our way though we roiled in turmoil under the scruffy Metro stairs i hardly able to put it in you for the howling wind and rapture of my unreasonable senses, ah fly! that  we did with wings my blue angel my mind my own mirror reflecting only you not once seeing our future torn by the lily wrench smile of myself one day sitting in some forgotten room second floor up listening with my heart to "Lili Marlene" sung by Marlene Dietrich there all alone again i was and you imprisoning me in scalding regret in madness in the kiss you gave like blood to a dying  man to taste love's clover and wear the stigmata of the perfect kiss and start of hopeless nights O rails streaming towards me in glistening silent silver that evening in the Gare Saint Lazare and you not yet here but soon the drunkenness our tongue-full kissing the night before us O such joy was mine in the gathering dusk unimaginable futures before the roiling coil of messing days did you hear the vultures cry or ever think them with your Pierrot close beside you watching the world's loveliest bend of ankle while the city unveiled itself to our possessive eyes, yes the beautiful days of life when the Seine that heralds so much awaited us like a hidden sun to receive our every exclamation and hymn of praise or was it when we unconsciously knowing sipped the cappuccinos and crunched the tartines beurre in the wispy morning light, ah to gather up your hands again i shall never do that, nor see your teeth and lips nor feel your embrace like one drowning to be saved in this city we delineated our own all this before the messing days of no return...14 stories high the nudity replays as i desire to ravish your seldom mentioned spots yet too shy to approach settling only for the missionary position after Popeye, me, had shucked his new-found strength lifting and hoisting boxes of produce in the littered rues of Les Halles,my darling,and you enclosed me unto you without an infidel spark as i  pumped into our dream...ah, is that...yes it is all that's left the eternal legacy perhaps we do share but who knows it could be grasped as just a painter's dream in a hundred ways to touch only the air in its immortal presence anywhere or everywhere without a laugh or a sigh or a nostalgic bid for more O no you were the ALL you were the manifestation,the hunger that still gnaws in the pit O relentless days like a train without a station  
 
                                    Fini  
                                                                          
Note: This was written from the viewpoint of the famous French theatrical character,Pierrot--a luckless, overly romantic, naive, sad clown.