The St. Malo air was crisp on the July morning

that I heard down the crackling line

of the only phone

box in the towering vicinity

that my

Grand Mother had

suffered

a heart attack.

 

I had been walking for weeks, the chance to stop

for a while and take stock,

take the map out of the bag

and contemplate my next move, one that

unlike my time in America,

I was determined

was not going to end in a premature way