Shingled hair, Australian, her dimples stretched out
so much, I thought the end of her face was dimple-lined.
I’m not Persian, but my name is.
All the way from Sydney, she flew. To Venice, to me, she said goodbye.
I see her sometimes
on that crisp morning- I wrote her a note, unavailing, writhed anxiety.
I fidgeted and squirmed boarding my luggage, if she got it. But, really my heart didn’t want to leave this dandy fantasy, how perfectly the skyline was a painting.
The ripples in the lagoons, riding the gondola
into Grand canal.
How I fell to her like I fall for everybody. she embraced me,
but it was goodbye.
I regret she came to me, to my room, but long gone was I. I regret I couldn’t spend the night with the girl.
I’d tell her about my lonely life, how her eyes were so sparkly. she’d tell me about her city and what she loves. I’d laugh and giggle,
touch her elbow with mine, talk the night.
Oh, it rained. It fucking rained.
I kept waiting to hear from her, miserably,I did,then she said she loved my kitty.
And now we talk through the phone
And now we don’t, I see her pictures.
I miss me, in Venice, the sinking city
vulnerable, lionhearted romantic.
From the very first she sat next to me, I was taken by her.
Oh, I’d love to see her again
and dream about her across the breakfast table.
How lovely she danced, I remember.
An angelic jazz beat would play,
I’d tell her I never wish to die again.
I know I never might see her, though I’ll remember she was my first foreign lover.
That night in Venice, I bid farewell to a stranger in a strange place.
Hey, everyone! I know I haven’t posted in a while, but surely I will be posting more than I didn’t.*sigh* Thank you for your support and love!
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