cars drive by on a busy cobblestone street in Paris

Triolet at Six

At six o’clock awake are the cars
sweeping the streets. They go on
old routes, past the empty bars
of six o’clock. Awake, the cars
let sleep their dreams of being stars,
brilliant, bright, grand, then gone.
At six, a clock wakes the cars;
sweeping the streets, they go on.