Bella Notte

It’s like the smell of snow

charging through the farms around the island.

Leghorn eggs & aquaculture,

other warm commodities. At night

I slenderized into a gondola

& toured the bleary couple through the city.

The casual canalside restaurants

make us in the mornings

something new & beautiful to eat.

An omelette in the middle of the street?

Not if the pavement

spanked with cherry petals is impassable

& freed of direction.

The lagoon, rocketing with fish,

only a thing entangled in its phrasing.

I am a freight of other boats.

The opposite of traffic, an indifference.

Before we met I was a gondola.

I bid the body bye-bye.

Grab me by the prow & yank me up.