The water in these Grenoble fountains
flies nowhere and is largely disregarded
by the stale smelling French who pass by.
The mountains to my left and right
stand vigilant as the Haussmannian homes
spread virally through this valley town.
The ladybug who is crawling towards me
wrongly thinks I will not kill her as
I have killed many before her,
small, crawling, beautiful even in death.
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