Sul ponticello

In the mist I stand,
jacket wrapped tightly.
I hear shoes.
Not yours; another’s.
A staccato beat,
notes deadened
in the thick air.
She passes
and I watch.
My breath follows her,
drawing me as if
by a leash.
The river is cold,
black and quick below.

Toilet tiles #2

George Harcourt Inn

 

Toilet tiles #1

Tilleys Devine Cafe