these are the columns of rome

sound: summer teeth, wilco
taste: green tea & 'the wind-up bird chronicle' in my room

'rome is viciously a city,' says mum & i laugh but she's right; its ruby red nails are clutching at our postcards, the history we've learned and learned again. everything is curved seashell pink, alabaster, tawny green and our feet are so weighed to these sidewalks, cobblestones, ancient roads with time. japanese girls holding glossy audrey hepburn prints are wishing at the trevi fountain for the constant motion, day noises, night noises (cars, laughter, singing, swearing, secrets) of this place. opulent restaurants advertise juniper scented chickpeas & stewed pigeon legs (not to be confused with pigeon-peas & chicken legs) & fruit-men pile overpriced oranges inside their shriveled carts. our map is a misguided maze of piazzas and churches, everywhere becoming a once-way street. but on monday afternoon the city seems to pause, drowned out by the shelter of umbrellas & the lacquered sound of rain.