Thursday, August 16, 2012

Foligno

In Foligno, my phone buzzed, and
a former friend sidled up for
another handout. I gave him help,
again, and returned to my saffron
gnocchi, hoping that my prom date
wouldn't end up in jail too long.
Shopping is an event in Foligno,
carefully combed coats and smiles
lipstick sealed against the cold.
It was just a stop between trains,
an hour killed strolling through
sun-streaked stoneways, but
in a second, with a blink, I
can taste the thick, dry cappuccino
twisting on my tongue.

No comments:

Post a Comment