what wakes me some outside

blast of glass waste banking up

like a valle d'aosta autostrada
in deepest nebbia. terminal shift

audio setting unavailable for 

comment, the year turns a page –
cities edged maple lemon nearly

all green thought flattery by this

the fade of the swimsuit season, a
bridge where a subject seated

might fork out (through the nose?)

for his own caricature
here on the water successive

symmetries reliant on reflection

as if ideas settle to focus slow within
shade a certain shade of blue

below us a deckchair, constellation

of tin cans aglow in the shallow
we arrived your 'forests'

of statuary dogs and lions ghosts

where fire relocates the royals
and some time later metro it back

to the hotel-of-the-same-name

hundred channels none that matters
sort re-shuffle the postcards

voice like a field of unreturned

calls to remind me if when? this all
falls together we'll be (seriously) overdue.