This Is Where I Go Left...

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He respected females in a way that to me was both foreign and inspiring.  He did not long to degrade or marginalize us into swimsuits or lingerie though you certainly got the feeling he did appreciate those too, but his curiosity extended farther.  As if our thoughts and emotions mystified him and the world was better for the mystery we wrapped gently in our heads.

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Tell me, does your heart sometimes fly away? C. Baudelaire

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Stormy Monday

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Black plum topped with goat cheese and pistachios

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Weeping widow fountain, Piazza Fontana, Milano

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Riding to meet Marisa, my 80 year old language partner. Photo credit: M. Amodio

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Suspended Sentences

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Rain and it’s muddy, clean smell.  The buds are starting to....bloooooom.  

Say it in a soft crescendo, whispering at first and ending in a strong baritone, as if it were being shown on the old projector in Mrs. English’s 4th grade science class.  Even the man in the film, announcing spring with his academic monotone voice, felt hopeful as the time lapsed photography clicked and brought daffodils reaching their petals out for spring.  I can’t help but feel a little nostalgic for lights switching off and a teacher telling me to sit.  

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Italian women in Saturday stockings. A matching husband. A tonal coat. Just a little fur, on the collar, warms the neck. Arms linked, as the pigeons fly and the church bells ring. Lonely, rocking in the tower as most of the city sleeps. Not Mario, the barber. He opens his door and calls to me. "Stai bene!?"He smiles. "Siiiiiiiiii"

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It is Friday. Market day. The streets around my apartment close.  The cars of the forgetful are towed and the men, arrange oranges, artichokes and fish. They sing and sometimes call out to me. They say, "Bionda!  Bellisima!" I put on red lipstick for the occasion and wonder if it will be the only kind of affection I will have for awhile. I feel thankful for the joy, because it doesn't feel like harassment.  My eyes and mind drift to the sky and I wonder about the science behind a visible moon in the rising sun morning.

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Full circle champagne

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I want you to smell the first crocus, the mud mixed snow, feel the way your bones lightly ache in the optimistic wearing of a too light jacket in a primordial sun.

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Happiness can be found in a bowl of ramen. Sometimes.