when i think of venice:

i think of the branzino al forno
we had at the restaurant;
where we giggled over the
young olive-skinned waiter.

i think of another afternoon:
we went to that wet market,
me in my only dress and you in your brand new sandals;
i had forgotten my film and
you had purchased one too many langostines

most of all when i remember venice:
i remember the firemen
racing down the canal
in their speedboats,
and on that day i asked you
if the canal was deep enough
for me to jump into
because that day
when i left the city,
the siren blaring behind us,
i wasn't thinking about anything
but the summer's day heat
and how:
there was no escaping it all.