John R Miao

It’s morning in Paris,

and the city still sleeps,

though the sun has long risen

and the cat has long been stretched in the light

that washes over the quiet courtyard.

It’s summer in Paris,

there is peace in the darkness, an

alluring sense of acceptance in failure

closed eyes & open eyes both see the same

but please

stick out your hand

& light a sparkler with me. for a moment

July 1, 2025 - Why do we read and write?

There is a man on the corner of 87th and Amsterdam. I do not know him, and he does not know me. He wears a red T-shirt with red sweatpants. He wears a red coat with red shoes. He wears a red ski mask on his face.

“Harris is a communist,” My grandfather protests. 

“Better a communist than a felon,” My father shoots back.