Anyway, she wore a tank-grey coat –
or did it have a hint of navy?
It sat well, a high collar and epaulettes,
neat buttoned cuffs.
It was nice, but it was how it was worn:
it gave the chest room, and she had been careful
not to fasten it at the waist, so that as she walked
the coat came open in little curves.
The strap hung, a kind of counter-balance.
As she walked away I saw her short hair,
and saw her quick, deliberate step.
She was a long way from France,
but all I saw was a smart woman in a fine coat.
It was all very Paris-in-autumn; Vogue.
I turned on an unfashionable heel