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It happened again and again;
Up the old Roman staircase,
My breath was cowering,
Footsteps in front,
The spiral,
The fleurs-de-lis,
The 8th of September,
My premier ‘Buona sera’!
I tried to be present,
I strove to invent
A physical language
That enters
This sleep walk,
But after a while I knew
I was helpless
To word –
Just pulsing the air,
I stalked,
I truly stalked
The lavender scent,
The beige keds,
The honest desire
To stay flying up
An old Roman staircase,
In Brussels, Bologna,
In Budapest,
On Earth or on Venus,
In nowhere,
Forte or piano…