the first task was to name,
to find out what we call
those blooms of
violet color

then sit in a little cafe
shaded from the Mediterranean sun
by an arbor enlaced with them

put a cup on the page
my pen
spill coffee
lean a used bike
fifty euro
on the fence

in my favorite place
piazza San Giacomo
paved by the Romans
to touch my tongue
to the already melting gelato

sundays climbing the castle hill
to sharpen my view of the mountains,
seeing the streets enshrouded below with fog,
imagining my city there
hundreds of miles away
hundreds of weeks later
sitting in a frozen East European
auditorium
reading D’Annunzio
I remember this bloom