We slide past the parks

Past the gates and the exit signs


Through the boulevards and avenues

Through the promenades and Rivieras


He sings in chatter and speaks in breath

He breathes in fog and breathes out Rome


Holds my hand through dark nights and empty alleyways

When yellow moons anchored in the pavement

Light up the rivers of gray


His traffic lights like beauty marks

Coloring books of both December and May


My steps are oracles

Ecstasies every time I touch his face


My fingers are still learning

Sliding over his every crevice


We talk late at night

When I turn my balcony into a confessional and

My cigarette into a rosary


He tells me stories

The way he talks in breath


I let my heart sink down, through four

Building floors, right into his chest