The Venetian face is faded
lampshades of blushing pink
buildings trimmed in handmade lace
hide rotted wood beneath.
Antique glass-blown cheeks
Venetian lilac window panes
boarded up when day is done.
turn turquoise when it rains.
Rose bud steeples never burgeon
worshiping the savory sun.
Clotheslines strung like story times, and
piovan hymns, softly sung.
Venetian pigeons love the children
cannoli, biscotti and beignet.
Croatian stone lines the bakery’s eyes
a flaked paint and pastry holiday.
Perfectly cooked tuna fillets
Star jasmine has its own concerto
coral dusk dances a fast furlane
feet a-rocking from the vaporetto.
Aqua sky with a grey-blue wig
sips apertivo party breeze
the high-tide spritzers conceal
carpeted stairs of velvet seaweed.
Saluti, floating, fizzy city
buildings of rhino mountainsides.
Saluti, curvy Serenissima
and your pouty-lip mountainside.
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