lifescapes from a train (venice---rome)

white sheets drying
perfectly spaced like
well brushed teeth
next to polka dotted dresses
I could wear
the line ends
the little farmhouse fades---
roof top gardens grow
like house hair-- blossoms
braided through tomatoes, basil,
parts of a recipe
I could find---
vineyards in whose
perfectly measured
rows, I'd fit, holding
my lover's hand, even,
and the grapes that would
stain my fingers
I can almost taste---
that man with the mo-ped
looks like a friend
he'd give me rides to the
post office, just
to have my hands
on his waist---
the playground where
a little boy with
my eyes could
step on the sky
seated in swings before
my stretched--out
hands---
the mountain
that reaches the
high clouds, tall
enough to watch over
it all, but it
could fit snugly
in my window---
----------------
if this-- were
my stop---
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