Fresco

I have come again to the perfumed city.

Houses with tiered porches, some decorated with shells.

You know from the windows that the houses

are from a different time. I am not

to blame for what changes, though sometimes

I have trouble sleeping.

Between the carriage houses,

there are little gardens separated by gates.

Lately, I have been thinking about the gates.

The one ornamented with the brass lion, I remember

it was warm to the touch

even in what passes here for winter.

But last night, when I closed my eyes,

it was not the lion that I pictured first.