Home from
Rome, with
an
apartment smelling like
exhaustion.
I have a few cups
of
limoncello bought in Almafi,
and feel
relaxed, yet mopey,
entertaining
myself with the
things I
hadn’t experienced
while
experiencing something else.
While away,
I had terrible allergies:
sneezing,
watery eyes, nose running
like a
Kenyan. I felt like a summer sunk
into a
mucus that flooded all of Europe.
At home, on
the couch, sipping my
limoncello,
I grabbed the nearest thing
to me:
a white
T-shirt.
By the end
of the night,
it was
bruised and deathly,
something
else I won’t have to move.
