you know when you’ve been:
September 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
to heaven to home.
a Roman in a station corrupts and
Siena is romantic, but full of americans. i dry my
hands in the sky
and my dress on the line. Diego looks up
as the peaches plop! on
the flagstones. we’re very alive here.
the train north is music; the capital is
hot with four thousand tongues
all wagging at once. our neighbour
charm. i spill my caffe on you in
a white piazza; here men sell
leather, schoolbooks and linen. a violin
flocks of butterflies flee