a poem

i see rome in watercolor paintings
painting for pennies on a street corner
cornered into cobblestones retreating into heels
with each step shooting up nerve endings
like salt water stinging freshly shaved legs
corners get caught breaking in new shoes
shoes made for slip n' slides
slip me into the tiber
i saw a dead body there once
it tumbled upside down with the soccer balls
banging bruises into the goal posts of the riverbank
and now i can't look at the plastic bottle broken
junked up trash that never stops getting caught in the dam
without thinking about that body that probably
never got to fly on a tire swing tied to an olive branch
in a grove where starlings danced in the sun so low
their shadows made more starlings
and those shadow starlings made the cypresses move
with each flap of their wings
swing me to the terracotta rooftops
i want to hear what sound the tiles make as they fall