This winter,
I will be living in a pastel
blue
apartment in India, with
a generous Muslim man
and his thick French accent
downstairs.
He has a green parrot
that says, “bonjour, papa”
in the mornings.
He tells me his ears
perk to it in the mornings,
and he’d bring me biriyani
in the evenings
if I’m hungry.
(I’m moving over there now!)

