here and again, where ruins used to be
and you'd step with abandon in your white dress in front of me
only a mad hatter and an alcoholic fool for you, my Alice romanesque
with wonderland on every inch of you

apocalypse acropolis and columns lit from behind but you
lightfooted, Alice, were always so much prettier than tourist traps
and the drinks were stronger across the pond

so here and again, two years dry and two years older
(both of us but mostly you)
and the sand in your hair, long and light and gravity wet and romanesque
like you (and only you)
alice, they call this an impasse.
but you've been drinking too, tonight
and (finally) the stars are blurry for us both


and your mouth is so red
and romanesque
and so close