|
fyn gula
|
When i last saw you, i was the child laughing at pictures we drew, gathering in my hands any flowers that grew along the bianca stada, so i could give them to you and we could pretend our love was real.
we ate gelato, several flavors in one cup and marveled at the sound of palm fronds against the roof tiles. were they the fingernails of a witch?
and when i see you again, i hear the echoes of our senseless dialogue, the memories of our frustration in palermo and you say its been years since you drank sfuso.
you show me the illustrations you've become famous for, the not so funny anymore works that give you your living. beside us, as we wait, we watch a toddler point to her crayon drawings and we smile at the connection, trying to convince her how good she has done.
|
000303
|
