Rome Can Wait

Right about now, late afternoon
We meet
Light green eyes with black circular edges

A jacket for cool evenings
November fresh, the hustle of a train station, grey air
Rolling cigarette – how to score weed in the Eternal City?

We tumble down backstreets near Termini
Me, wheeling your suitcase
Smells of tomato sauce and garlic, anticipation

With the whole city open at our feet
And two nights of crescent moon
And who knows what damn magic

But God, as you say, had other plans
A night with no dreams
Yellow flowers blooming in the dark, forest animals with night-vision eyes

On video call we dived into one another
Laughter, philosophies, witchcraft, food
Held each other company through the final moments
As your seat to Rome ticked away, tick tock,
Your flying ghost coming to meet a man who didn’t miss his flight
Or drive himself mad

Something is better, this way
The last time I saw you was Sunday, Catania metro
Your artist’s hands sculpted the back of my head, moulded my hair
While I ran my arms through your blonde angel waterfall
How we half-looked at one other, over the turnstiles, a goodbye that cuts like ice

Rome will receive us
When we’ve dreamt her better
When our fingers are smudged with tobacco from a joint in ghost town
When I’ve cooked you a proper meal, potatoes and eggs, but in the right order