Meanwhile in Venice
I’m getting into bed on my lonely little street in Montreal.
Wrapped tight in my covers.
My eyes start blinking, book begins drooping, breath is dropping in
Meanwhile in Venice
the swampy canals are placid,
broken by a last call gondolier.
Pigeons sleeping on the rooftop of an abandoned loft.
Money exchange office closed.
Gelato shop closed.
No one even hears a dog manging from one alley to another.
Just silent nighttime hum
in the piazza of some religious statue
where I took the picture hanging the wall above my head.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
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