swallow fish and barnacle rock, steep steps up but harder down on heel-press, cut, want to bone. not having the right words for this new country. found goggles and fresh eyesight down to the base where a white bag hung like jellyfish and a plastic cup surfaced, reserved for the bin - eat up, eat up. buongiorno and words misunderstood. waiting for initiative but it doesn't work that way. beautiful man chipping at marble drain covers - hammer and dark hair, face down into the ground. hands on hips and thighs, proprietary. patron. pool and gather resources. espresso. due. my due. paid but also not. idyll that can't last so rag rag rag. not good enough to stop the shutter at the speed we need. too late. texts sent home and more questions than answers. more answers than we knew to ask for. fior di latte. i don't know the right words but i know they're not these. topless in the sea. naked and topless and anyone could see - old man, green shorts, vegetables growing. artichoke weeds and peaches on the verge - grass scrub, dark phone lit, pair of men, dog between the legs, not bad people just a lift to the bar. plenty out and too young to kiss so just one there, on the cheek. prego. burned legs. instagrammers i admire eat chicken from fast food shops and i feel strange. i read my old self's wishes and i feel sorry. i'm sorry. there is so much more. look up. catch eyes with flowers i can't name. but when i float up i'm carried. it's miraculous. i'm carried and i could flip over backwards, feet in the air, and find myself in otherworld caves climbing out to this brighter light, if i could only fall - open - apart - up.
L x
