I sit in the second
story café drinking
white wine looking down
into the giant square
a mass of people
in groups of two and three
buying small statues
replicas of the David
or the Leaning Tower
proof they’ve been somewhere
proof is in my pudding
stracciatella
frozen and delicious
milky and melting down
my throat
dragging down chocolate shavings
and the last few sips of pinot bianco
I am buzzed and tired
from a day’s worth of walking
it’s busy but so quiet and I can’t
imagine Il Palio just now
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