from memory...

i miss
that piazza
that cluster of palms
a sight of green sudden
in an open space...
and that statue
of the navigator
compass in his one hand
maps scrolled in the other...
and that little book shop-
piccolo negozio...
and that old man
with glasses on his nose...
a wrinkled cobwebbed look
hands that always shook...
urban paralysis setting in...
dense air as smooth as mozerella cream...
walls with spray paint blue
and little tents selling leather bags and shoes...
the three shields full of epiphanies
perched on the top of a gate made of stone...
people sitting as mob...
people all alone...
on benches under the blue sky
criscrossed by wires over tram lines...
pigeons at play near a gallery
Jesus standing muted overlooking a valley
of cars scooters bikes bound by time
a big copper bell under a dome that chimes
slightly in the breeze carrying jingle of falling dimes...
i miss that piazza
that cluster of palms
a sudden green
in the open space...

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