V is for Venice

Today I'd like to walk those damp streets
in a thin cotton dress
as soft as well worn sheets.


I'd take your arm as we crossed
the Rialto and turn the corner
to our hotel


looking up at the bright
flags of clothing hanging
against the gray sky.


And later as we stand in
the Piazza San Marco
with the pigeons swarming


around your arms and head.
I promise to look only at you,
no longer peering


over your shoulder
past the crowd of onlookers
towards the boats in the distance


wondering if I might
catch a glimpse of
somebody that I used to know.