greets me as I emerge from
the escalators, after the mini-
metro from the train station
3 kilometers outside town, near
where that girl was murdered.
The sun sets early but I never
hurry, dawdling through empty
markets, dazzled by the curves
of the country, perfectly accented
with distant white lights. She would
have felt safe here, the student,
in this perfect, quiet place, but
no girl should live unlocked, not
even in Umbria. Families watch
the ferris wheel rise for Christmas
and I kiss the cold air for the English
girl whose trust was her own ruin.
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