Wheels roll to a parking space close to the bar
with dressy drinkers. A beer and a Scotch
are drunk with a woman’s rum and cokes.
Above the dark wood floor, her British
luxuriates. Leather soles cross cobblestones.
Silk Cut cigarettes from London lie on a coffee
table’s glass top. Off her bronzed Italian-
vacation skin, musky perfume varnishes my torso.
Cars below hum along a foggy canal.
Morning is served late by a diplomatic blond
bumblebee who sits on a cushioned throne,
painting her nails, making big, malleable jokes.