So I was rummaging in the attic
and found my old
JVC camcorder
the smaller version that plays
MiniDV size tapes
those small tiny reels in a tiny plastic case
nestled away in a zip compartment
inside the musty case
was a random scattering of foreign coins
quietly paying nothing forward or behind
I gingerly grasp them
and twirl them in my fingers
somehow someway wishing
their memory still has meaning
and then it hits me
as I grasp the molded currency
those Spanish pesetas
on that sweaty musky afternoon
rambling through the back streets
of Valencia in the late afternoon light
how the light bounced off your inner thigh
tumbling in the sheets
entwined like a ball of string
I can still smell those sheets
then a puddle of euros
like the puddles we paddled through
in Barolo cradled between
the Ligurian Apennines and the Po River
that fertile soil that nourishes eons
of ancient grape varietals
how we nourished ourselves
on that Nebbiolo wine
stumbling up the vines
of an ancient vineyard
Marchesi di Gresy
your scent like the wine we drank that evening
menthol, anise, violet notes amidst the fruit
I’m doing my best to channel Anne
as she reads Some Foreign Letters
longing to be hiking high above Lake Lucerne
in her lifetime ago
and in another corner of the case
a few drachma
ancient relics of another time and place
where every building is white
balancing your skimpy ivory bikini
sitting on the beach outside
Elafonisi cradled in the pink sand
on our private island stranded in time
perfectly pink sands matching your nails
how you thought I wouldn’t notice
your eyes channeling those emerald seas
on a day when nothing moved
nothing happened no sound no wind
just like today
as I kneel at your grave
channeling those eyes
that wine
that afternoon
and as the light hits my face
I hear your words Anne
as I mumble my guilty love
while my ears die…