Between Rome and Florence,

amongst strangers, a blue-sounding tunnel

took me to my destination. A star-fed

cloak wrapped the day and was only

interrupted by shuffling magazine pages

and the argument of two men on the street.

The granite cobbles seemed to move

with them, allowing their hands to

gesture above the cars girdling the street.

By 5, light found its way around familiar

plaster walls to resurrect itself in my eyes.

At night, I sat on my bed and watched the hotel

across the street start with pink

and move through hues or purple and blue.

On my elbows, I felt my face change colors

alongside the thin curtains that flicked

their corners at me as if to say,

Now is the time, feed your heart.