Antwerping

Your toes against me moved,
your “best feet.”    You were told.
Morning herald came
along wearing shades.
My window open all night.
Heels on the cobblestone street
and I can’t help but looking.
Down to the plaza and someone
drinking coffee, unfolding a bicycle.
Your best feet against me moved.
Heels on the cobblestone streets.
Not finishing upstairs,
walking alone with frites.
If you weren’t the only one of record.