I saw it all
and graced every moment,
There they all were,
Scattered across Gregorian isles,
The beauties beyond the bridge,
holding and caressing the sun-
drenched pavement,
Beset on all corners flesh of the-
purest sort,
The cackling ruffians in the parks,
conspicuous cigarettes barely holding
steady,
The yawn-screaming maintenance man,
in the back of the depot,
making faces at passersby.
The didwives walk swiftly,
buckling dirt under their scoured
limbs,
The fresh smell of the river,
with precarious logs that never
fall over,
The faces chisled in the walls,
Men whose catacombs belong,
Personally under the floor boards,
I met the modern day black-
smiths,
greased, and happy golden-red,
Behind, stuck in the surreal
rut,
Happily tailing and fireworking
as tickets fly in,
A walk home revealed all,
footsteps graced every patch,
Each one of comical saints,
tying invisible lines of
alternate reality.


"Excuse me,
I just wanted to say,
You look beautiful today."