Riomaggiore
And what of you Riomaggiore?
Does god have tender feelings for you 
Or is it just me 
I imagine those tiny shining buildings weathering a storm 
The dark stairwell down to the marina that reeks of fish 
Filling up with water 
The tunnels of and to the train
A relief from the wind as now it is relief from the sun 
The chapel, high and empty, surrounded by pink oleander trees 
Stripped bare, it’s gold candlesticks glistening in the rain 

I would root for you! 
Not that you need a cheerleader,
Riomaggiore, you just exist
My moral support to the laws of physics 
And the weather does nothing 
But help me feel like I matter, 
Like I have something to do with it all 
I’ll scream my support and my tattered vocal chords will add to some cosmic chorus 
Of people celebrating things over which they have no control
Things they pass through and leave no mark on 

One hour with you Riomaggiore
But I make it 45 minutes
I don’t want to miss my train 

Manarola
I wonder if there is a shortage of pastel paint in the region 
The fishermen painted the houses different colors so they could spot their homes from the boats 
If it’s not the stars, it’s a sturdy coat of paint 
We will strangle direction out of anything 
Trying to know where we are 

There are no beaches 
No waves licking hungrily against a shore 
Just a straightforward breeze, cooling me whether I like it or not 
Rummaging through my dress to find my little pools of sweat 
Then the fickle breeze gets bored of me 
and moves along to push against the rock cliff 
I don’t see any fishermen today
I see families try to manage strollers of babies who will not remember the trip 
Who will later say
“I’ve been to Manarola but 
I don’t remember it” 
While looking through old photograph books 
Strangling direction out of anything 
Asking where they are 

Monterosso
The breeze grazes my cheek, 
Such a flirt but it works 
I weave down the beach 
Sidestepping the sun-worshipers   
and their young, naked converts 

Pulled to the sea by love and gravity 
I leave my things in the shade 
Taking lingering steps into the water 
To reacquaint myself with the waves 

The cold catches my breath 
But then let’s it go 
And I lift out of my depth 
And let my body do what it knows 
I float and paddle then flip onto my back 
Surrendering the over-saturating sun 
Allowing it to blind my mind black 

Suddenly 
Everything is gone 
No sound, no color, no sight 
No memory and it’s pain 
No logic, meaning, reason, purpose, 
Nothing exists
There is no God
No tattered relationships 
No rainy days, 
No complicated history 
No nuance or context 
No brain, or muscle, or soul, 
Nothing 
Blank

Water splashes into my nose 
I choke and spit 
Pulling me back from the listless abyss 
I blink open my eyes 
And all of the images rush back crisp 
Of the Bolsheviks and the apocalypse 
And the memory of my first kiss 
And the monoliths and Aerosmith 
And the church with my favorite crucifix 
Of petroglyphs and greek myths 
And how the earth feels under my fingertips 

Back to form, back to fate 
Back to the heaven and hell I create 
Back to the shore with its solid ground 
Back to myself, earthbound   

Vernazza
In Europe 
at any moment you could 
be sitting next to someone on the train who 
looks like a Nazi in a WWII film 
Or the hairiest man in the world 

On the street 
A man walks by pushing a stroller in a shirt that says LE PADRE
the man next to me texts a man named Charlie happy birthday 
Sending a gif with confetti 
A four year old girl makes two dogs be friends by lifting up the tails of each 
for them to better smell each other 
Parents intervene 

At the cafe 
Is the waiter annoyed with me 
or am I just an American? 
The most beautiful woman in the world 
Walks by 
Ah— just french 

At the beach 
People tanned into racial ambiguity 
Turn out to just be Spanish 
And I do double takes all day 
As I try to get used to topless old ladies 
I can’t tell if the couple in front of me is arguing 
or if they are just Italian