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.