Firenze

I saw a cat try to catch

A bird with paws,

Flippant and quick,

To no avail.

With a perfect view of a piazza

That has the perfect view

Of the city

(Watching the watcher from afar)

I sit.

I wandered wearily to the top

And sank into the music

where my bones confess

They retreat.

Glancing down towards a place

(not far off at all)

Where people make a point

to sit down

And talk about nothing

Each day.

We must sit down

With them and speak

Their language

Although we can’t translate

Their tongues.

We try to abide

By the time and are lost

In translation.

We found a round sensation.

The sense

That the sentiments lost

Will never be picked up again.

—we’ll leave them then.

On the cobblestones

Where the horses hooves

Beat in long ago

Before I did know

How to light

This cigarette.

The smoke that travels

Travels wide and white

Like the pallor

Of strange encounters

Outside

I saw a bird

Release his bowls

Right in front of me

Missing my head

Because I decided it was impolite

To pass a stranger on the street

I retreat into my music

And sing a song of sadness

Silently inside

While I’m totally and completely

Happy

Just to be alive.