Tony D'Arpino


to Caroline


I can't find the hidden bridge

The August clouds of Rome

Illuminate a handwritten manuscript


I call you on the wind

Telephone towers

Sim card of simulacra


From the house of Cicero

Sorry closed

Come back tomorrow


In the Campo dei Fiori

A waitress swings an apron

If you don't drink I'm fired


And the secret society

Will burn the bronze statue

Of Giordano Bruno again so what


Scant minutes left

In the tower of wind

And the secret forests of Rome


I'm lost so I sleep

Patterns connect in paving stones

Concentric cobbles


Where fingers have traced a map

A body of stars and water

A dream bridge


I close my eyes and see you

At the tower on the bridge at Cahors

I call again and the wind says yes


Wind was the name of the Italian phone company I was using to call my new girlfriend (and future wife) from Rome. Sim card credit was getting low so I went to the Wind office to top up. The office was closed. All the phone companies had gone on strike (common enough in Rome) and I was left with wounded wind, a love poem.

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