Not the shy tourist, hopping up the salty steps of Rome—

The Piazza Venezia from a bus, the transparent emotions go by.

The old mines. Not

Just something resembling a part of it

But all of it as it is not. The voice

“Please tell me that you love me” said,

The iron monuments drift by,

The arches nailed to wood,

The caves, blind fists,

Green seaweed on the black and blue water

And the friends’ precision with excitement,

“The man who sees a cloud in Schenectady

Affects someone he does not know on the other side of the globe, who wants him

And we shall have that rose, Dutch work apart.”

Blue towers, squeals, the blind roses go by.

Therefore we have these few things.

It was a summer afternoon or night, glory was in the gondola

On the percussive honeymoon.

But he thought of the nights the ruined homes

The gold tears shed for him.

Therefore we have these white bricks.

The bride wore white …

He wears a white suit, carries a white newspaper and apple, his hands and face are white;

The clouds sneer but go sailing into the white sky.