She’s gone to Milan
and left her perfume in the closet
sweet cheek and neck
hanging with the coats
Her hoodie lies crumpled
in the bidet
it’s clean enough to do that
she tells me
but I know
I wash my balls in there
I don’t know when she’ll be back
I have a faint idea
but
until then
I’ll just have to walk the rooms
wondering
checking the curtains to see
if any of her warmth
still creeps from the window
where she stood before lunch
Bellano
There’s a town we pass often
called Bellano
which literally translates as
‘beautiful asshole’
No one around here finds it funny
Now in my time
I’ve been fortunate enough
to have opened
some sublime slender
legs
to have pulled panties
from tight, smooth
cracks
to have stared into infinite
bliss
and to have kissed what felt like the cheeks
of God
BUT
I’ve never seen a view like this
the trees, the lake, the mountains
I guess
whoever named this town
had been more fortunate than I
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