Posting this poem in honor of our 10th wedding anniversary...
Everything is filtered through honeymoon eyes.
The Piazza San Marco, its squabble of pigeons and
tourists, a little bit of Italy.
David Gilmour, pinkly lit
through misty sheets of summer storm sounds
comfortably numb as he
hums mightily to the crowd
where we stand.
Us. And them is everyone.
Black and blue
we later found to be
the colors of that evening,
when our sweet Aurora was conceived in
more than thought
more bacchanal than beloved,
like a Veronese painting, the kind
the Doge lived inside.
Brilliant luminous hues of viridian, cerulean, scarlet
blood, mine and yours awash with wine,
giddy with cannabis and canals and cannoli.
Me in my dangerous blue dress and you reveling
with me at the Caffe Paradiso.