no festival, no stilettos stuck
in cobblestones, but, for me,
it was full. The ancient theater echoed
with choruses hummed into granite,
the cathedral shone like a stage,
exquisitely arrogant, with or without
an audience. Montefalco rosso in my
blood, truffles on my tongue, I follow
wild cats across a bridge, dizzy and dreamy
and running to laughter, the other side.
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